


Sin City

by Sophia_Bee



Category: Gossip Girl
Genre: A little Vanessa Slash, Alternate Universe, Angst, Blair is a Diva, Chuck is an ass, F/M, Jenny squeals a lot, Las Vegas, Vanessa is a BAMF
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-10-03
Packaged: 2018-02-19 03:21:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 43,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2372654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sophia_Bee/pseuds/Sophia_Bee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU, multiple POV Blair is a starlet in the 1960s making her singing debut in Vegas. Chuck is the handsome playboy pursuing her. Dan is living in Vegas with his sister, Jenny, doing freelance journalism work while he writes his book. He's about to get the scoop of a lifetime.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm moving this over from ff.net and I have noticed that there is one glaring continuity issue. I apologize. I'll probably get to changing it at some point.

The neon lights reflect off the windows of the limousine as it glides down the strip. Blair stares out the window watching the lights blink on and off, advertising alcohol and pretty girls and sin in bright glowing colors. She sighs.

“How many did daddy say have sold so far?”

“About half the house.”

Blair smooths the skirt of her tight fitting dress with her hand and stares down at her perfectly manicured nails. Her hair is piled high on her head and heavy, making her neck hurt. She pinches her lips together and shakes her head.

“It should be more. Dammit.”

The girl next to her is plain, hair pulled up in a ponytail, average dark suit purchased at Gertz, probably saved up for and put on layaway. The fabric is cheap and part of the hem is unraveling. She’s nervous, looking down at the leather-bound book in her hand the back up at Blair. Her name is something equally plain, like Lisa or Mary, Blair isn’t quite sure. She was sent by her daddy, another in the long trail of assistants Blair has blown through in the last few months. Blair suspects she needs this job, has an ailing mother or some other sort of sad story, is determined to make this work, no matter how horrible her boss is. Maybe daddy has promised a bonus if she can last a certain number of months. 

“He said only half the house, Miss Waldorf.” 

Blair sighs, feeling petulant. She picks up her clutch and pulls out a compact, flipping it open to study herself in the small mirror. Her lipstick is perfect, rich, dark red. Her lashes are curled, her eyeliner thick across her lids. At her neck is a simple string of pearls, a gift. She looks perfect for her debut. Blair always looks perfect.

“Anything else?” Blair snaps at her assistant, shutting the compact with a click. Not much longer now as they get closer to the hotel. Her assistant looks even more nervous and mousey, glances down at the appointment book and then back at her employer who is staring at her impatiently.

“Um, he called.”

Blair says nothing. She knows who called. He’s been calling for a week now, sending flowers, even the necklace she has on tonight. She still asks Lisa or Mary to elaborate, enjoying watching the girl squirm.

“Who called?”

Blair’s voice is causal, although her heart is beating madly in her chest. This is the part she loves. The pursuit, the coy game of cat and mouse, playing hard to get allthewhile knowing hard to get is far from the truth. 

“Mr. Bass.” 

Chuck Bass. Playboy, spoiled rich boy, has a different girl on his arm every night. Son of the businessman Bart Bass, the man who practically owns Las Vegas, who is rumored to have ties to the mob but no matter how hard the feds try, no one has ever been able to prove anything. Chuck Bass, with is charming gap-toothed smile, custom-made suits and suave demeanor. He’s a bad boy through and through but one with enough money to keep out of any sort of serious trouble. Blair feels a secret thrill just thinking about him, but she’d never admit it. She barely admits it to herself. 

“Hmmmm...” she murmurs, pretending she doesn’t care. Blair returns to staring out the window, watching couples walk along the sidewalk, arms tangled around each other, women leaning too much on their companions, laughing a little too loudly. Ladies in too short dresses lurk in the shadows of doorways inviting customers for a quick and dirty fuck in hotel rooms that rent by the hour. Posters of women dressed in feathers and beads with bare midriffs beckon with wide, inviting smiles. Las Vegas, where everyone comes to let their secrets loose. 

The limousine pulls into the parking lot and the sparkling neon sign of the Stardust momentarily blinds Blair, then she sees it, up in lights. Her name. Live. Tonight. They slowly come to a stop underneath the flashing neon lights and Blair takes a deep breath.

Show time. 

“Miss Waldorf,” Mary or Lisa almost stutters, “there are photographers here. I thought our arrival was supposed to be a secret.”

Blair smiles. Not so secret when you have your PR firm tipping people off. Perfect. She opens her clutch again, grabs the compact and does one final check on her makeup. Perfect. She will be more glamorous than Marilyn, more famous than Dusty Springfield. She fingers the mink stole around her shoulders and looks over at her assistant. Everything is perfect. 

“Show time.” Blair says putting on a huge pair of sunglasses to hide her face despite that it’s almost dark outside. Mary or Lisa nods her head and looks nervous. The door of the limo opens and Blair climbs out, putting her hand up to shield herself from the photographers. The sound of popping flashes go off around her. She rushes toward the glass doors of the Starlight, Mary or Lisa close by her side, saying ‘no comment’ as reporters yell questions. 

Miss Waldorf, Miss Waldorf!

How does it feel to be making your Vegas review?

What about the rumors of you and Mr. Bass?

Blair ducks her head as they push through the double doors into the lobby, a rush of air following them, then the doors swing shut and the sounds of the paparazzi are muffled. 

“Hello darling.”

A familiar voice greets her and Blair turns as her assistant takes her stole and the clutch Blair is absently handing her. She pushes her sunglasses down her nose and gazes over them to find a dirty martini being handed to her. 

“Nate!”

Nate Archibald is tall and tan and as handsome as ever. He’s dressed in an impeccably tailored suit, hair neatly combed, teeth breaking into a dazzling smile. 

“Blair!”

Nate may reek of new money and Las Vegas glamour, but Blair knows he’s as old school as her. They went to prep school together, even dated for a little while, and Blair might have thought he was the one she would marry, but their relationship didn’t last a summer fling she had in the Hamptons. He headed west a few years ago to make his mark in the untamed frontier of the Vegas strip and now owns the dazzling Starlight Hotel and Casino, where stars and starlets come to see and be seen, where the biggest and best parties happen, where Blair Waldorf will take the stage and make her Vegas debut. 

“Nice entrance,” Nate says, hooking his arm through hers and Blair smiles at him the sips the martini she has balanced in her free hand, feeling the liquor burn down her throat, enjoying the freedom of having a cocktail as they stroll across the expansive lobby, something that would never happen in New York, heads turning as they walk by, Mary-Lisa trailing behind. 

“Daddy said it’s only halfway sold out.” Blair says petulantly, squeezing Nate’s arm. She sticks out her lower lip and fakes a pout, furrowing her brow. 

Daddy is in France with his assistant, Robert, vacationing on the Riviera, but he’s always looking out for his little girl. Blair told him she wanted to be a star and anything his Blair-bear wants, she gets, so he’d arranged for this show at the Starlight. Daddy had promised her a sold out show. 

“It’s looking up, doll.” Nate says cheerfully. “We’re at seventy percent and my boys are out on the strip drumming up some more paying customers. I promised you a sold out house, B, and you’re going to get one.”

“You take such good care of me.” Blair squeezes Nate tighter and tilts her head to look up at him. It’s true. Nate has become a good friend all these years later after their failed affair. They step into the elevators and ride up a few floors then step out and Blair follows Nate through the maze that is the backstage of the casino, still sipping her martini. Up stairs, down stairs and finally to a red door with big gold star on it. 

“Here it is B, your dressing room.”

Blair takes a deep breath. She’s been on stage before. Small stages in smoky nightclubs, the lights blinding her, men in the corners with women half their age, wedding rings gleaming in the dark. Nothing like this. It’s the big time. She’s finally made it. She pauses to stare at the gold star the turns the doorknob and steps in. 

She is greeted by the strong scent of roses and Blair realises the entire room is filled with roses, deep blood red blooms on long slender stems, clustered in vases, and as she looks around music starts to play and she sees a small jazz quartet in the corner of the room. 

“Oh Nate,” Blair sighs. What an fantastic thing to walk into.

“Can’t take credit,” Nate shrugs. “Not my idea.”

Blair’s eyes widen. Then whose....

Nate hands her a small white envelope and Blair rips it open and quickly reads it.

Welcome to Vegas.

“Chuck Bass.” Blair gasps. It’s a truly amazing display by anyone’s standards, and Chuck Bass has exceeded anything Blair could have dreamed of.

“When Chuck wants something he certainly goes all out.” Nate says and Blair detects a slight bitterness in Nate’s comment. She briefly wonders what that’s all about, has is there something in the past between Nate and Chuck, but then she’s back to staring at the roses. 

“Do you want me to call him and thank him?” Mary-Lisa stammers from behind her and Blair turns around and glares at her.

“No.” Blair snaps. “Mr. Bass is not going to get what he wants with some roses and music. Get these flowers out of here.” She waves her hand dismissively and Mary-Lisa scampers and grabs a couple vases then starts moving them into the hallway. Nate chuckles. 

“One hour, Blair.” 

It doesn’t take long for the flowers to be cleared then Blair kicks everyone out. She sits in front of the vanity staring at her image in the mirror. Her skin is pale, her eyes are luminous and she almost feels like she’s looking at a stranger. 

This is it, Blair. This is your moment. You’re a star.

She hears the roar of applause from the auditorium and she hears her name announced. 

All the way from New York City, a rising star, a hit record being played on the radio....

Blair stands up. She takes one last look in the mirror. She looks beautiful and she knows. it. 

Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome...

She pushes the door of her dressing room open and steps into the hallway, then turns toward the stage. Blair’s high heels shoes click on the concrete floor as she makes her way toward the disembodied voice.

a diva like no other you’ve ever seen...

She pushes through the heavy curtains and walks onto an entirely dark stage toward the x taped onto the floor.

a voice like an angel...

Blair stands in front of the microphone and wishes she didn’t feel so nervous.

Her first time at the Starlight Casino. Blair Waldorf!

::click::

The lights go on and Blair is standing in the center of a pool of light staring at the microphone. She can’t see anything, just bright light and suddenly she feels like she’s ten and at her dance recital all over again. She reaches for the microphone, clears her throat and...

Blair starts to sing.


	2. Chapter 2

“You should have seen her.”

Dan looks up from the typewriter he’d dragged from his tiny bedroom to the still tiny kitchen table to see his sister standing there, her eyes wide with excitement, gesturing wildly. 

“I took a break and saw some of her show, and oh, her singing, it was amazing. Then she came through the casino afterward....”

It’s early, 7 am and Dan isn’t interested in his star-obsessed sister blather on about the latest rich and famous person to blow through the Stardust casino. He wishes he’d made another pot of coffee since the one he’s been working on is almost gone. He wishes Jenny would shut up and go to sleep, crashing after her night shift working the tables. Instead she continues to babble on about things Dan doesn’t care about. 

“She had the most amazing pearls on and her hair, oh her hair was beautiful, and she smelled so good, and when I smiled at her I think she smiled back. She stayed in the casino for a while, at Mr. Archibald’s private table, and he’s sooooo dreamy, I wonder if I could get a serving job, then I could serve their drinks...can you imagine all the people I could meet?”

Jenny takes a breath, which briefly stops the verbal onslaught, plops herself down in the wobbly chair across from Dan and rests her chin on her hands. “Blair Waldorf,” she sighs, looking ridiculous and moonstruck. “I was just feet away from Blair Waldorf.

She’s wearing the standard casino uniform, white button-up shirt, black skirt, black nylons, comfortable black shoes. Her hair is up in a plain ponytail and she looks every bit the 21 year old she is except her eyes look tired around the edges. Night shift working the tables is taking its toll on Jenny. Dan’s not sure this life is good for his little sister. 

They’ve been in Vegas for six months and Dan still hasn’t gotten used to the heat or the dryness or the constant activity. He hates the lights flashing all night and all day, hates the excess. He misses Brooklyn and his dad and New York in general. But Jenny wanted to come out, heard you can make good money, heard you can see movies stars and famous people, and Dan didn’t want her to go alone. He told her he can write from anywhere, packed his bags and went west with her. They found a small, somewhat quiet apartment filled with mostly immigrant families off the strip and Jenny found a job working at the Stardust. 

“I know you hate this place.”

Dan looks up from his typewriter to find Jenny gazing at him, her chin still resting on her hands, her eyes a little sad. 

“I don’t entirely dislike it.” Dan says, shrugging a little, not wanting to worry his sister or to make her feel guilty for dragging him out here. There are some good things if you look for them. You can drive out of the city, away from the neon glow that dominates the horizon, the landscape stretches on forever, and you can see the stars like you never could in Brooklyn. He does that some nights when Jenny is working and the apartment is quiet. He ends up on a bluff, fueled on coffee, characters and plot spinning his head, sitting in their old beat up car, the heat making the cracked vinyl seats stick to his legs, staring out into the darkness of the desert at night, making notes in his notebooks. 

“Come work with me, make some fast money, get a couple months of rent real quick. Then you can sit around for a few months, work on that book....”

Dan arches his eyebrows in Jenny’s direction. She’s suggested this before and knows his answer. Dan wants nothing to do with that world; the gambling and drinking and whoring that keeps the wheels of Las Vegas turning. He doesn’t want to be the hired help to the rich and famous, or watch people gamble away their life savings. He just wants to write, so he finds work doing freelance journalism, writing articles about local dog shows, girls in pigtails winning spelling bees, the occasional act of heroism. It’s enough to keep groceries in the fridge, to keep gas in their car. 

“Jenny...” he says in a low, chiding voice, telling her he doesn’t want to hear this again.

“We could fly dad out.”

Rufus is still in Brooklyn, playing in a local band that backs up local singers, scraping by like they always do. Dan misses him, tries to get enough money for a weekly phone call. 

“No.” Dan says with no uncertainty. “I don’t care how easy the money is Jenny, I still have to wake up the next morning and live with myself, and you know that I can’t do that.”

“Ugh,” Jenny signs, blowing a stray hair off her forehead in the process. “Such a judgemental prick sometimes, brother-o-mine.”

Dan shrugs. He has principles. He crumples up the first draft of the latest article he’s working on and tosses it playfully in Jenny’s direction.

“Go to bed.” Dan says. Jenny smiles at him and starts to get up from the chair she’s been perched in. She heads toward her bedroom leaving Dan alone again with his coffee and typewriter. 

“Hey,” Jenny says, turning around with a big grin on her face. “You should try to interview Blair Waldorf. I bet that would bring in a big chunk of change. She’s all the rage lately and I’ve heard she doesn’t give many interviews.”

Dan laughs. 

“What would I ask her? How does it feel to be rich? Why don’t you do something good with all your money? What about the civil rights movement? What’s your favorite lipstick color?”

Jenny rolls her eyes. 

“I’m just saying it would bring in more money than all these pithy human interest pieces you’ve been writing. And maybe I could come along and meet her?”

“Go to sleep, sis.” Dan says, rolling his eyes back at her. Jenny giggles and prances down the hallway and Dan hears her slam her bedroom door shut. He won’t see her until she emerges in the late afternoon to find he has dinner on the table waiting for her then she’ll head out for another night at the casino. They’ve fallen into this pattern, Dan working furiously on his typewriter, Jenny working and sleeping, Dan cooking, like some old married couple. It might seem boring and domestic, but they also know that in this the strange hinterlands that are Las Vegas, all they really have is each other. 

Dan returns to staring at his typewriter. He’s working on a story about a local woman’s prize winning poodle. She’s the wife of the guy who owns a car company that caters to the rich and famous who come to Vegas to attend ritzy parties. Her poodles are huge with puffy pom pom heads dyed purple and she kisses them and talks to them in baby talk. Her fingers drip with diamonds and Dan thinks about how just a few of her rings could feed a family of four for a year. Dan worked hard to keep his face neutral during the interview, trying not to roll his eyes, biting his tongue and not asking her how she felt about the cold war or malnutrition in the inner city. He nodded politely when she listed in detail each dog’s diet. Jenny might be right. Trying to get a bigger story might be worth not having to do these local interest pieces. Dan had met no one in Las Vegas he didn’t find to be somewhere on the scale of moral decrepitude, and in his mind the purple poodle lady is no different than the spoiled brat diva currently headlining at the Stardust, so why not make some money?

He types a few words but Jenny’s words keep rolling around in his head. 

You should try to interview Blair Waldorf.

Dan knows nothing about Blair Waldorf. Well, nothing beyond what is written about her in the gossip magazines that Jenny leaves lying around their dingy apartment, the ones he only picks up out of sheer boredom from time to time. She is 24, from New York like him, but the other New York. The rich and privileged New York, where girls and boys go to boarding schools and come home for holidays, dads go to work with three martini lunches and moms survive on valium. He’d seen them at home when he wandered onto the Upper East Side, walking down the street with their arms full of shopping bags, ducking into limos, gossiping about who was going to the next party. He finds these people to be annoying and shallow and not part of his world. 

He knows she’s pretty. That’s one thing he’s made note of, pushing aside his disgust to admit that her hair is dark and glossy, her lips look soft and her eye sparkle, and if she was a different girl in a different place, Dan might find her attractive. If she wasn’t a spoiled daddy’s girl who was using his money to further her career, he might really dig her. 

Dan laughs out loud, the sound a little jarring in the silence of their apartment. His sister is ridiculous. He’s not going to interview Blair Waldorf. Then again....

It would mean money. Lots of money. Maybe he could even try to sell it to a national magazine, get a byline somewhere besides Las Vegas. “By D.R. Humphrey” in black and white, for thousands of people to read. Maybe it could open doors, finally get him in front of a publisher who would take him seriously. 

Maybe Jenny’s idea wasn’t so crazy after all. 

Dan gets up from the kitchen table. His hair is a mess, curls sticking up everywhere. He’ll need to comb it. He’s wearing a plain white t-shirt and there’s at least two coffee stains on its front. He’ll need to look a little nicer if he’s going to go begging for an interview with the illustrious Blair Waldorf. He has that suit that his dad had bought him when grandma died. It should still fit. It’s a few years old but it should work well enough. 

She’s at the Stardust. It’s a huge place, full of people, and Dan has no idea how to find Blair Waldorf there, but he not going to find her sitting around at his kitchen table. He’ll start by going there, looking around, maybe try just asking for her to see if she’ll actually answer. It’s worth a try. 

Dan walks down the hallway and stands outside the closed door to Jenny’s room. He can hear the latest Blair Waldorf song playing on the little record player she keeps on her dresser. Jenny is humming along and Dan thinks that his sister doesn’t have a half bad voice, that it’s actually really good. It’s only a matter of what family she was born into that keeps her here working the tables at the casino, trying to make ends meet, instead of on that same stage that Blair Waldorf stood on last night, singing her heart out. This makes Dan sad for his sister. He knocks on the door.

“What?” Jenny says, irritatedly. “Can’t a girl get some privacy.”

“You’re not asleep.” Dan says. “I can hear your music.”

“Excellent detective skills, big brother.” Jenny calls out. “Now leave me alone.”

“This is all your fault for putting the idea in my head.” Dan answers back, “So, how could I find your Miss Waldorf?”

The door opens and Jenny sticks her head out, grinning, and wiggles her eyebrows. 

“So you’re going to do it, eh?”

“You mean sacrifice all my values as a journalist and a writer to whore myself and try to make some money. I guess so.” 

Jenny’s face lights up with Dan’s words. He knows she has stars in her eyes, thinking that if this works out maybe other doors will open, maybe they will get invited to parties and dinners, and late night soirees. Maybe she will finally get to hobnob with the rich and famous that she serves every night. 

“Goody!” Jenny exclaims.

Goody, Dan thinks to himself. He’s about to sell himself out and his sister says ‘goody’.


	3. Chapter 3

She isn’t sure what finally wakes her up. Maybe it’s the sunshine coming through the penthouse windows or her assistant poking her in the shoulder and hissing her name over and over. Blair rolls over and pulls down her sleep mask and blinks blearily.

“What time is it?” Blair moans and shuts her eyes to block out the brightness. She wishes the ceiling to floor curtains were closed tight and she was still deeply slumbering.

“Eleven o’clock, Miss Waldorf, and you have that interview in thirty minutes, the one your father set up...”

Blair waves her hand at Mary-Lisa, wanting her to stop talking, her staccato words pounding like spikes into Blair’s throbbing head, which is heavy and cottony from a night of too much alcohol and stale cigarette smoke. 

“Cancel it,”

Blair pulls the sleep mask back down and flops back onto the bed, sinking into its softness. She doesn’t give interviews anyway, part of the Blair Waldorf superstar mystique. Daddy should know that. 

“But...” Mary-Lisa stammers and underneath her sleep mask Blair rolls her eyes. Can her assistant manage to say anything without sounding mousey and overwhelmed? 

“Cancel it!” Blair says more forcefully. She hears Mary-Lisa scamper off, then calls out again, “Wait!”

“Yes, Miss Waldorf.”

“Breakfast.” Blair managed to mumble before letting her eyelids fall shut again. 

When she wakes up a second time there is a tray of cottage cheese and peaches plus champagne next to her bed. Health food. Blair’s stomach rumbles and she rolls over, picks up a spoon and starts eating. When she’s done Blair rolls out of bed, cinches her robe and heads to the bathroom. Fifteen minutes later she’s soaking in the marble tub, bubbles surrounding her, relaxing into the warm water. She has a few more hours before it’s time to get ready for that night’s show. Blair closes her eyes....

“Very nice, if I must say so myself.”

Blair’s eyes fly open at the sound of the smooth as glass voice to find the one and only Chuck Bass sitting on the edge of bathtub. She stares up at his perfectly combed hair, his handsome face, his eyebrows that are arched up suggestively. He’s as delicious looking in person as he is in the gossip rags. Blair licks her lips and quickly regains her composure. 

“How did you get in here?” Blair asks in mock admonishment. “What gives you the right to disturb a decent woman in her bath?”

“From what I see,” Chuck purrs, “you are entirely un-decent.”

Blair glares at Chuck but stretches up a little until her breasts are just barely covered by the thick layer of bubbles cover the surface of the water, knowing he’ll like what she’s offering, knowing she won’t let him get close enough to touch. Blair likes the game, likes the big tease. She sees Chuck’s eyes look at her chest, then back at her face. 

“How did you get past Mary-Lisa?”

“Oh, is that her name?”

“I don’t even know her name, Bass,” Blair snaps. “I call all my assistants Mary-Lisa, but how did you get past her?”

Blair makes a mental note to fire this assistant as soon as possible. She won’t tolerate incompetence, especially the kind where her suitor ends up perched on the edge of bathtub. 

“I guess she found me charming,” Chuck intones, smiling slyly at her. “Most women do.”

“Not all.” Blair shoots back defiantly. “Not me.”

With the next move, Chuck Bass almost wins the game. He reaches out and caresses the bare skin of Blair’s shoulder. She feels electricity shoot through her and she lets out a small gasp from parted lips. Chuck looks satisfied as he observes his affect on her. 

“Did you like my little gift.”

Blair can’t concentrate. Gift. The flowers. The jazz quartet. 

“I found it ridiculous.”

“I like things that are ridiculous.”

His fingers are stroking the nape of her neck now. Blair can’t think.

“I need to get ready.” she manages to blurt out. She hears Chuck laugh a little. 

“I think you, Miss Blair Waldorf, are a liar. I think you’re closer to giving in to me than you let on.”

He’d caught her with her guard down and Blair hates him for it. He’s tipped the balance of the game, put himself on top, leaving Blair grasping for control. 

“Screw you.” Blair hisses. This time Chuck laughs a big belly laugh. 

“Always a lady, Blair.” he picks up her hand and places a firm kiss on it, then looks at her. “Goodbye for now.” 

Chuck turns and leaves and Blair decides that if she’s not going to fire her assistant, she’s going to give her a good dressing down. She’s breathing fast and feeling all hot and bothered and now she feels completely undone and not entirely prepared to go on stage tonight. 

Chuck Bass, you devastate me. 

She wants him out of her head, wants to shake off the way he makes her feel a little bit tawdry. Chuck will not win this game. Chuck will not win Blair. 

Blair steps out of the bath and Mary-Lisa appears with a warm, fluffy towel. Blair glares at her but doesn’t say anything. Right now she wants to go for a walk, to clear her head. There will be time for dealing with the hired help later. She goes to her closet and pulls out a dress, pink with sweet little flowers, a cinched waist, a full skirt. It’s not her usual glamorous look, but Blair wants to be a little less visible, a little more normal. She pulls her hair back in a simple ponytail, puts on a little makeup and looks in the mirror. Instead of Blair Waldorf, Diva, she just looks like Blair. The one who grew up in boarding schools and not seeing enough of her parents, who sat on the steps leading up to her bedroom at night and listened to adult conversation over cocktails and crushed on boys with her friends. She finds a pair of big, white sunglasses to put on and heads toward the elevator. Mary-Lisa scatters at Blair walks down the hallway.

“Miss Waldorf, I, um, do you want me to come with you?”

“No.” Blair snaps as she pushes the elevator button. “I’m going alone.”

The elevator speeds towards the lobby and Blair isn’t quite sure where she’s going. She just wants to walk, to get away from her own thoughts. When she steps out of the elevator she’s immediately recognized, a teenage girl with a fresh-scrubbed face who asks her to sign her program from the night before and professes her undying love. Blair obliges her, smiling as she pulls a gold pen from her purse and signs her name. 

The lobby is as expansive as it was the night before, but still heads turn when she walks by and she hears her name whispered. Blair rolls her eyes behind her sunglasses. The price of fame. The elevator next to her opens up and a couple steps out, a middle aged man and a younger woman, lots of makeup, hair piled high, skirt a little too short. Blair absently thinks that the woman is most likely not the missus but the mistress, flown the Vegas for a special getaway, a gift to keep her placated and happy so she’ll stop asking him when he’s going to leave his wife for her. 

The couple is arguing, the man saying something about room service being expensive, the woman, tottering behind him in high heels, hissing something about him being a no-good sonofabitch. The lobby moves its focus from Blair to them, eyes turning and staring, and then the man pulls his hand back and slaps the woman. 

Blair blinks in shock. They are just a few feet from her and the woman is holding her cheek, tears streaming down her face, streaking her mascara. Blair steps back, wanting to distance herself from these two, the hair on the back of her neck going up. The woman is screaming now, flailing her fists on the man’s chest, and the man’s hand comes up a second time and....

“Stop!” 

The voice comes from across the lobby and Blair turns to find a man rushing toward the couple. He’s tall with curly dark hair and a poorly fitting cheap suit, and his hand is up as he approaches the man who has not hit his girlfriend a second time but has turned his attention to the interloper.

“That’s not okay,” says the interloper, his hand still up, keeping his distance from the older man, who is now turning a particular shade of red. Blair suspects if you got close enough he would smell of alcohol, and for the first time Las Vegas doesn’t seem as glamorous as before. It actually seems kind of seedy. 

“Who are you to tell me what to do with my woman?” the older man yells and what happens next is a flurry of activity. The older man lunges toward the interloper, Blair hears the crack of a fist meeting the bones in a face, Nate bursts into the lobby with a group of security guards behind him, yelling for them to stop the fight. They descend upon the the two men in a swarm, separating them, the older man screaming threats as his hands are held behind him, his face now crimson with rage. The other man is rubbing his jaw, blood streaking on the back of his hand, and shaking his head. 

A lobby full of people staring and he was the only one who tried to stop the violence. Blair feels a surge of gratitude toward the stranger and she almost wants to go up to him and thank him, but at that moment Nate materializes by her side. 

“Quite a spectacle, doll.” he says, putting his arm around her shoulder. Blair looks over at him and smiles. 

“Glad you and your boys got here so fast.” she says, her voice falsely chipper, trying to disguise how disturbing it had been for her to see that woman get hit. It’s over, time to move on. Put on the Star Smile, pretend it never happened. 

“No problem.” Nate says cheerfully. “Happens all the time, B.”

Another surge of distaste for this town grips her but Blair ignores it. This is where she’s come to finally break into the big time. So it comes with a patina, a gloss of things not so nice. Big deal. When she’s done, she’ll be a star. 

“I think a drink is called for.” Blair says, hooking her arm through Nate’s and smiling at him. “A very, very dirty martini for me.” 

“This way.” Nate says, leading her toward the casino, toward what Blair knows is his private lounge and away from all the prying eyes. She’s grateful to her friend at that moment for getting her out of the lobby. 

They arrive in the lounge, deep red velvet couches, a bar on one end, and it’s completely deserted. It’s just for Nate and his friends, and since it’s only early afternoon, the nightly festivities have yet to start. Blair perches on a stool while Nate orders her martini and an Old Fashioned for himself. 

“It can be ugly around here, Blair.” Nate says, sipping his drink. She nods. 

“I’ll be okay.” Blair says, still trying to hide the fact that she’s been shaken. “I’m a big girl.”

“I know, but...”

A voice from the doorway interrupts their conversation and Blair turns to see a nervous hotel worker standing in the doorway. 

“Um, Miss Waldorf, there’s an reporter here for you, says you have an appointment.”

“I don’t have an appointment,” Blair snaps, “And I don’t give interviews...wait....”

The person standing behind the hotel worker steps forward into the light and Blair recognizes him. He’s a little more rumpled but the cheap suit is the same, the curly hair is the same and now he’s sporting a shiner under his left eye. It’s the man from the lobby. The only one brave enough to step in and intervene. She smiles. 

“Hey, I know you.” Blair blurts out. Nate looks over and startles. 

“Good god, man.” Nate says, not letting Blair finish, “Come sit down and have a drink. Barkeep, get me some ice for his face.”

The stranger steps forward and Blair appraises his slender figure, the way the suit hangs off his frame, his hands shoved into his pockets. He’s out of place, nervous, looking around, left, then right, and finally directly at her, and Blair realizes that he’s actually kind of handsome, in a beatnik bohemian kind of way, with a strong jawline and chiseled features. She steps forward and extends her hand to him. 

“Waldorf, Blair Waldorf.” Blair says formally. The man takes her hand in his and his grip is warm and strong, and Blair smiles, a little uncomfortable because neither of them have let go.

“D.R. Humph...uh, well, I’m Dan. Dan Humphrey.”

Blair smiles again and their hands are still linked. Dan is staring, like so many men do when they meet her, dumbstruck, mute. 

“Nice to meet you, Humphrey.”


	4. Chapter 4

Dan can’t believe his luck.

His head is throbbing and the ice feels good on it. He thinks that Jenny is going to go insane when she hears how his night has gone. Dan promises himself to remember every detail so he can tell her all about it later.

“You are one cool cat.” 

Dan recognizes the man standing at the bar holding drink out for him. It’s Nathaniel Archibald. Vegas newcomer, blew into town about a year ago and took over the Starlight. Dan had read a piece in the paper about him, with a picture of Archibald standing below the sparkling Stardust Hotel and Casino sign, tanned with a huge smile and dancing girls standing around him with giant plumes of feathers sticking out of their headdresses. 

“I mean, I showed up with all my goons and you, well you just walked up and told that guy to stick it where the sun don’t shine. I don’t know if I’d been able to do that.”

Dan feels embarrassed. He didn’t do anything special. He just stopped a man from beating on a woman. The more shocking thing is that no one else stepped forward. He had walked into the lobby, determined to find a way to talk to the illustrious Blair Waldorf, only to see the man and woman coming out of the elevator, yelling. He saw the man’s hand come back and that was when Dan had sprinted across the lobby towards the couple. The real tragedy is that there were ten, maybe twenty people who were closer than him and all they could do was stare. 

“It was amazing.”

This time it was her speaking. Dan turned and found himself face to face with Blair Waldorf for the second time that night. She had excused herself to the ladies room once introductions were made, leaving him and Archibald alone together. Now she was back, her hair down around her shoulders, and Dan notices she’s wearing a simple, light pink dress, and her eyes are wide and luminous. She’s so beautiful he’s not sure if he can breath. Dan swallows hard and remembers that the one thing he can say he likes about Blair Waldorf is that she’s a looker. 

She’s watching him with those deep, brown eyes, and Dan thinks there’s something there he can’t quite put a finger on, underneath the panache and air of sophistication she projects. It’s a jarring vulnerability, and suddenly he realizes that she was scared. Her lips tremble a little and then the moment is gone and she’s smiling at him, flipping her hair back, and the diva has returned. 

“So, Humphrey,” Archibald says, setting his highball down on the bar. “What brings you here?”

Dan plays with the cuff of his jacket, feeling strange and uncomfortable in his funeral suit, out of place between the two other people in the room, Archibald in his tailored tuxedo, Blair with her pretty dress and expensive leather clutch. This isn’t his world. 

“Well, I wanted, I was hoping, Mr. Archibald, that I could get an interview with...with Miss Waldorf.”

He feels nervous making the request, more than he should. He’s a writer, he gets paid. He’s a professional. This should be easy, but for some reason he can’t stop feeling like he doesn’t belong here. Dan’s hand goes into his pocket and he fingers the pencil he keeps there. Archibald looks at Dan then over at Blair.

“Call me Nate,” Archibald says, and Dan nods. He likes Nate, likes his easy way, how he makes the people around him feel comfortable. “and I’m not the one who has to say ‘yes’ to an interview.”

Blair steps forward. She has a martini in her hand. 

“Yes,” she says and Dan feels his chest clench a little at the way the world rolls off her tongue. She’s just a pretty girl, he tells himself, get it together Humphrey. “I would love to give you an interview. Especially after what you did.”

Dan smiles and pulls his pencil out of his pocket. He reaches in his other pocket and retrieves the little moleskin notebook he carries around. Blair walks toward one of the overstuffed red velvet booths that line the edges of the lounge and motions for him to follow her. She sits down and leans her elbows on the table, staring at him. 

“Ask away.”

Dan is prepared for this moment. He’d called his friend Vanessa in New York this morning and asked her to dig up everything she knew about Blair Waldorf. He now knows that she was born in Manhattan, that she’d spent most her time at boarding school, that she spent her summers in Europe. Vanessa's voice crackled over the line as she told Dan that Blair’s mother frequents the fashion scene and her father owned a company that makes moderately priced shoes and had several factories in the United States, including a couple in the south. When Vanessa told him this, Dan asked her to dig up a little more information.

“Well,” Dan clears his throat, deciding to start with a relatively easy question. “How does it feel to be in Vegas?”

Blair smiles and offers a somewhat vague, practiced answer. Something along the lines of how t’s wonderful to be in this city and she’s enjoying the nightlife, maybe hoping to catch a glimpse of the stars herself. She tells Dan she has a little bit of a crush on the Rat Pack. Dan scribbles in his notebook. 

“How do you feel about the success of your record? It’s being played on the radio in most major markets.”

Another smile, another practiced answer. Dan scribbles some more. He asks another simple question, then another. What’s her favorite color? Does she pick out her own outfits? Who are her musical inspirations? Blair gets comfortable, leaning in, laughing a little, her eyes capturing his across the table, sparkling, and he feels his chest clench again. He likes this, almost enough to forget what he had planned for the end of the interview. He’s almost through his questions except for the last two or three, the ones he really came here to ask. Dan’s stomach is doing flips, because he knows the next questions won’t be so easy to answer. 

Blair takes a sip from her almost empty martini glass and asks him if he wants to know anything else.

“Just a couple more questions,” Dan says, taking a deep breath. This is the moment. He reminds himself that no matter how pretty the girl is, he’s a journalist and he’s here to do a job. “How do you feel about using your father’s money to further your career?”

He looks across the table at her. Blair doesn’t answer. She just stares at him, her gaze unwavering, her mouth no longer laughing. He’s surprised her. Dan keeps his pencil on the paper of his notebook, waiting, watching her. 

“I feel grateful.” Blair finally says, the smooth, practiced answers gone, and there’s something honest about her words. Dan is surprised. He didn’t expect honesty. He expected avoidance. He asks his next question. 

“Because someone with just as good of a voice but without a rich daddy wouldn’t have half the chances you’ve been given. What would say to those people?”

She’s caught off guard again. Dan can see it. Regret spirals in his stomach. 

“I...I don’t know.”

“And what about the fact that your fathers factories in the south practice Jim Crow. How does it feel that the money you’re using is tinged by racism? Would you be willing to ask your father to help the civil rights movement and desegregate his factories?”

Dan is talking faster now, waiting for her to cut him off, to stand up and storm off because he’s pushed too far, but she doesn’t. She just stares at him, her eyes growing wider, and Dan thinks he sees the gloss of tears in them. He had come here intending to confront this rich little girl about her excesses, about her father supporting the racist institution of segregation and now all he feels is sorry he didn’t just ask her who her favorite movie star is and skip over the hard-hitting stuff.

“Dammit Humphrey,” Nate says, walking up to Blair and putting his hand on her shoulder. “Listen doll, head back to the penthouse and get ready for the show tonight and I’ll take care of this.”

Blair nods and now Dan can see there are tears on her cheeks. He thought she’d be cold as ice, cutting as the diamond that she sparkles like, but she’s not, and he’s hurt her. He wants to apologize, to say he’s sorry, but she’s rushing out the back door and Nate is turning to confront him. 

“I’ve known Blair for a long time,” Nate says when Blair has left the room. “Most people don’t get to see past Blair Waldorf, diva, and she does a good job of playing the part of starlet, but underneath all the glitz, she’s sensitive. Don’t you think there’s a reason she doesn’t give interviews. Part of it is that it keeps the allure alive, but the other part she’ll never admit to is that Blair can be hurt easily.”

Nate takes another drink and looks pointedly at Dan. Dan wants to say he’s sorry, to find a way to make it better, but he can’t. She’s gone. 

“You’ve hurt her.” there is accusation in Nate’s voice and it stings. Dan was trying to be a good journalist and all he ended up doing was hurting someone. 

“I didn’t realize...” Dan stammers.

“Listen, what happened, here, well, it can’t go into the article. What do you want? Money?”

Dan shakes his head. He actually wants nothing. He won’t do this to her, not after the side of Blair Waldorf he’s seen tonight. 

“A job? Do you want a job? I’ve got plenty of those around here.”

Dan shakes his head. He’s about to tell Nate that he wants nothing, that he’ll write a nice, fluffy piece about her and be done with it, when Nate makes him an offer he can’t resist. 

“I need someone to do some writing, interviews with the stars, casino newsletter, stuff like that. And despite what you just did, I like you.”

Dan blinks. A writing job. It’s not his dream, but it would give him and Jenny some extra money, and he likes Nate Archibald too, and suddenly he thinks it might not be so bad. 

“Sure,” Dan says before he can really think about his answer. A job, regular hours, a paycheck, and he still gets to write. “I can do that.”

“Just keep this on the hush hush.” Nate says, taking the melted ice pack from Dan’s hand and giving him a fresh one. Dan flinches at the cold on his skin. His head is spinning. “Now, do you want to go see her tonight?”

“See who?” Dan asks, confused. In the last hour and a half he’s been punched, gotten to interview a rising starlet, made her cry, been offered a job and now he’s being asked if he wants to do something tonight. 

“Blair. Do you want to see her sing? She’ll be going on in a few hours. I can give you the best seat in the house. After what you did to her, you should see that Blair Waldorf is actually the real deal.”

“I guess so.” Dan says, wishing he were home with an aspirin and a good book, but Nate was going to be his employer and he was offering something for free, so it felt wrong to say no. 

“Cool,” Nate says, smiling. “I’ll get my girl to set you up, and you can spend some time by the pool until the show starts.”

Dan ends up sitting on a lounge chair in the Vegas heat, wishing he had something besides his suit to wear and eating complimentary shrimp cocktail. He jots down observations in his notebook, thinking that Jenny is going to scream when he tells her that he got a lot more than just an interview with her favorite singer. He wishes she were there right now but he knows she’s at home, waking up to his note on the kitchen table and cold dinner in the fridge. 

The sun slips over the long, flat horizon and finally it’s time to head inside the casino for the show. Dan finds his seat and Nate is right, it’s indeed the finest seat in the house. He’s right next to the stage. The lights go down, the announcer says her name, all the way from New York, ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Blair Waldorf, and the audience explodes with applause. 

She walks onto stage and she’s wearing red. Instead of the girl in the pink dress he’d met earlier, she’s a woman, her hair piled high, fluttering thick lashes at the audience. She walks up to the microphone, opens her mouth, then hesitates. The entire audience is silent, watching, waiting, then she leans forward and speaks softly, and Dan realizes she must be nervous. She is a mass of contradictions, difficult diva, demanding starlet, spoiled rich girl, but nervous to sing in front of an audience. 

“I saw an act of heroism today.” Blair says in a voice that starts out wavering then grows stronger. “Someone who risked his own safety to do the right thing.”

She can’t know he’s sitting there in the audience, listening to her words. She can’t. Dan feels self-conscious, not knowing what to think of this woman whom he had deliberately hurt earlier and now she’s on stage, talking about him, telling the world that he’s a hero. 

“This is for you, D. R. Humphrey. Thank you.”

With that, Blair takes the microphone stand in her hand, leans forward and starts to sing. Her voice is beautiful and clear and suddenly Dan understands why his little sister loves Blair Waldorf. Her voice is truly majestic, and for the first time Dan realizes that he may have her pegged wrong. Blair Waldorf might actually have some talent. And she might be a somewhat decent person. She sings, closing her eyes, emotion written on her face and as Dan watches her his chest clenches again and his heart soars.


	5. Chapter 5

The day she meets Dan Humphrey, Blair Waldorf gives what is probably the best performance of her career. She steps on stage and sings her heart out.

When she’d arrived in Vegas she knew who she was. She was Blair Waldorf, rising star, but Dan had pulled all of that away to show her true self. Spoiled rich girl, living on daddy’s money, supporting racism. Since she met him seen things differently. She’s looked at a sea of mostly white faces, and she sees the people serving drinks for the first time, most with darker skin, and she burned with embarrassment. 

She had never known. 

Blair had called daddy after leaving Dan and Nate in the lounge, waking him up from a sound sleep in the south of France, ignoring the male voice in the background asking who it was. There are some things you just try to forget. She had asked him if it was true, were his factories segregated. He had called her Blair Bear and told her there are some things she should just not worry about, but when she had pressed him, he told her the truth. Yes, they were. It was the way down there, he said, and the labor was cheap, and maybe someday things would change. 

She heard Dan’s voice in her head. Would she be willing to ask her father to desegregate. She almost does, almost opens her mouth to ask him why he doesn’t do something, but she ends up agreeing with him, echoing his words, ‘maybe someday things will change’, telling him the she loves him and hanging up the phone. 

It’s nothing she needs to worry about anyway. 

Still, as she had gone up on stage, her thoughts swirled around in her head, and she didn’t feel excited or even nervous, she felt overwhelmed and melancholy, as if everything she’d worked for in life suddenly didn’t matter. She she had paused, leaned toward the microphone, and did the only thing she could do. She thanked Dan. Thanked him for helping that woman and keeping a fist from crashing into her face a second time. Thanked him for being a good person who put himself in danger. 

Then she sung her heart out. 

Now she is tired, standing in the casino, not quite sure where to go, not sure if she wants to stay or go back to her penthouse. Her dilemma is answered by Chuck materializing by her side like some sort of magic trick you’d see on stage, his hand on her elbow, guiding her toward his table. Blair sighs. She doesn’t feel like the game tonight, doesn’t feel like engaging in flirting and banter and sexual innuendo. 

“You were amazing tonight. So beautiful. So sexy.” Chuck purrs, leaning in toward her, his breath hot on her ear. This would normally drive Blair crazy but she’s distracted, preoccupied. 

“Thank you,” she murmurs. She had put all of the sadness and anger into her music tonight, letting it all go, giving it to the audience, and now she is wiped out. It had been that man, Dan, the journalist. She can barely let herself think his name. He had stripped her bare with just a few questions and Blair is still trying to recover. 

“You’re somewhere else,” Chuck says, sliding a drink her direction. “What do I need to do to get you to pay attention to me? Ask you to marry me?”

Blair blinks at Chuck, digesting his words. She knows he’s not serious, but still, marry him? Often the most serious things are said in jest. She gathers her composure and works up a little banter.

“Maybe that will be what it takes.” she counters, letting him know for the one hundredth time that she’s not someone he can simply have, picking her off the shelf like he does with so many other women. 

“Maybe I’d be willing to do what it takes.” Chuck says slyly. Blair smiles and for a moment she’s back to being a diva, being hard to get, not consumed with her own guilty conscience that has been triggered by an encounter with a self-righteous journalist determined to get a big story. 

Asshole. Blair decides she hates Dan Humphrey at that moment, takes another sip of her martini, then asks Chuck if he’d like to dance. They dance to one song, then a second, Chuck guiding her around the floor expertly, and Blair knows that people are whispering, saying the Vegas playboy has met his match, jealous of what a beautiful couple they make. Still, Blair doesn’t entirely shake her melancholy and it’s not long before she gives Chuck a polite peck on the cheek and excuses herself. 

“Not more?” Chuck asks, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“I’m not easy, Bass.” Blair answers, grabbing her mink stole, “don’t forget it.” She walks away from him, not looking back, knowing that his eyes never leave her as she leaves the casino and heads up to the penthouse. 

Blair can’t sleep.

She tosses and turns, taking off her sleep mask, putting it back on. She’s normally tired after a performance and a few drinks, but tonight she didn’t feel like hanging out with Nate and his various friends in his private lounge, and even Chuck didn’t provide enough distraction. Tonight she mostly felt like going back to the penthouse where Mary-Lisa was waiting with her pajamas and a cup of warm milk. 

She wants to sleep. She wants to sink into the dreamless dark, to forget, but she’s restless, her mind not shutting off, and she still can’t get him out of her head. 

Dan Humphrey. 

Finally she drifts off. When Blair wakes the next morning things feel more normal. She yells for Mary-Lisa to bring her coffee, rubs sleep from her eyes and decides that today is a day for forgetting. There is no show that night, no worrying about getting ready. She has nothing to do but rediscover the spoiled diva Blair Waldorf knows she can be when she makes an effort. 

Chuck helps with that. He shows up at the penthouse as Blair is sitting in her robe, eating eggs benedict and sipping champagne.

“It’s rude to show up unannounced.” she says as he walks in and sits down across from her. “yet it seems to be the only way you ever arrive.”

“I don’t want to lose the element of surprise.” Chuck says, putting a forkful of her eggs benedict into his mouth. 

“At this point your surprises are actually getting to be a little routine.” 

“Hmmmm...” Chuck says, chewing. “We should change that, don’t you think? How about today?”

“How about what?”

“A date, today.”

Blair thinks about it. A date. With Chuck Bass. All of their flirting is one thing, but a date makes them an item. It makes them official. She’s not sure if this is what she wants. 

“Maybe.” Blair answers cagily. 

“Think about it. You’re beautiful. I’m handsome. Together we can dominate Las Vegas. It’s a win-win proposal.”

He’s right. They are the it-couple, the two hottest acts in already hot Las Vegas. Blair takes a sip of her champagne, delaying her answer a little longer, enjoying making Chuck squirm.

“Alright.” she says. Chuck smiles, tells her he’ll pick her up around seven that night. Blair makes a mental note to call a masseuse and see if the spa can book her a treatment. She’s going out tonight. 

Blair is ready when Chuck arrives at the penthouse that night. Her hair is done, her makeup is perfect and she’s wearing a tight, gold dress with a flowing train and a plunging neckline. She looks good, but Chuck’s growl of appreciation when he sees her confirms this. 

“The limo is downstairs waiting.” Chuck says, taking her arm in his. 

“Then let’s go.” Blair demurs, fluttering her eyes coyly. 

They go downstairs, step out of the elevator and into the lobby. The same lobby where she had not so long ago ran into Dan Humphrey, who despite his heroics, Blair had managed to transform him into That Annoying Journalist in her mind. Heads turn as she and Chuck glide across the lobby, and Blair hears people whispering.

...Bass, I didn’t know he was dating...

...Blair Waldorf...

Blair smiles. They push through the double doors leading to the waiting limo and Blair is blinded by the brightness of flashbulbs going off. The press. How did they know. Then Blair realizes that Chuck must have tipped them off. She smiles graciously, despite her irritation. 

“The press was a nice touch.” Blair says as Chuck settles next to her on the wide leather seat. 

“I didn’t want you to be able to get away with games this time,” Chuck says slyly.

“So you thought you’d just play a different game?” Blair says cooley.

“Isn’t it all a game, my darling?”

He’s right. It’s all a game, man, woman, moving back and forth, ducking, dodging, never making contact until they finally do. It’s the mating dance, an age-old practice. 

“Maybe it is all a game,” Blair answers, annoyed that Chuck has forced her hand in their relationship. “but now we’re officially dating, you know.”

“Yes,” Chuck purrs. “I do know.”

They pull up to a movie theater, and it turns out that Chuck has rented out the whole thing. Afterwards they head to the Golden Steer where Chuck orders steak tartar and Blair picks at her Caesar salad. Again the whispering, heads turning, and Blair thinks Chuck might have picked a more intimate spot for dinner. Then again, if his goal was to force her hand, this was perfect.

At the end of the night he escorts her to her penthouse, stepping out of the elevator, Blair’s arm around his waist, her head spinning from one too many martinis. 

“Do you know what happens now?” Chuck whispers as Blair leans on him. 

“What happens now?” Blair asks, taking his bait, although she knows full-well what happens when a girl gets dinner and a movie. She knows the price exacted. 

“I kiss you.”

Blair waits for the melting, for the static to climb her spine with Chuck’s words, and she’s not surprised when it does. He’s attractive and sexy, and she doesn’t expect anything else. He bends his head and his lips touch to hers, and Blair sighs, leaning more against him, opening her mouth, and she waits to feel the wanting build, the clenching in her stomach. 

The kiss is nice. She likes it, Chucks mouth moving against hers, and when he breaks away he is breathing hard. 

“Let me stay.” he says hoarsely.

“No.” Blair says, and she’s happy it’s so easy to say. “Not tonight. Not yet.”

“Tease.” Chuck’s tone is light, but there is something in his eyes, something cold and hard, and Blair recoils slightly. She says goodnight and so does Chuck. He gives her a peck on the cheek. She watches him as the elevator door shuts, then turns and heads toward her bedroom. 

She sleeps well that night. 

The next day everything feels back to normal. Blair wakes up and tells Mary-Lisa that she’s going to have breakfast by the pool. She puts on her nicest two-piece and a cover-up, grabs a book and her Tropicana tanning oil and heads to the pool. 

Since she’s in Vegas she might as well work on her tan. 

The day is going well, with a breakfast of fresh fruit and eggs eaten, Blair finds herself unable to keep her eyes on her book, her lids fluttering shut, and just as she’s about to drift to sleep, she hears her name. 

“Miss Waldorf.”

The voice is familiar but she can’t place it. She decides to ignore it, feigning sleep.

“Blair.”

Blair opens her eyes, annoyed that anyone she doesn’t know would address her by her first name. The guilty party is sitting on the chaise lounge next to her, blocking her sunlight. She squints through her tinted glasses, trying to make out his face in glare. 

“You’re blocking my sun.” Blair says petulantly. The man apologizes and moves a little and finally Blair can make out his face, and she realizes that it’s him. 

Dan Humphrey. 

“I thought I’d seen the last of you.” Blair says, feeling annoyed. He smiles at her. 

“I kind of have a job here.” he says, looking a little apologetic. Blair makes a note to discuss this with Nate. “and my first assignment is you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, a Day in the Life of Blair Waldorf.”

Blair’s stomach feels sick. An entire day of self-righteous Dan Humphrey following her around, making her feel bad about who she is and where she came from. Sounds like fun. Everything she’s worked to shove away the last 24 hours starts to bubble up again.

“Goody.” Blair says. Dan smiles and chuckles a little. Blair feels even more annoyed at him. “Why are you smiling.”

“Oh, my sister says that. ‘Goody’. She said that when I told her I was going to try to interview you.”

Dan has a sister. Suddenly Blair is curious to know more about this man who doesn’t treat her like a star, doesn’t cater to her, doesn’t lie to protect her. She decides she’ll do this Day in the Life thing after all. On one condition. 

“Okay, you can follow me around.”

“Goody.” Dan says. This time Blair smiles. He’s funny and it makes her feel oddly lighter. 

“But...”

“But? There are conditions?”

“Yes,” Blair says. “I get to spend a day in your life too.”

Dan looks startled. She’s surprised him. Blair likes that she can throw him off-guard. 

“I..uh, I guess so, but why? I’m no one special.”

Blair blinks at Dan’s words. He thinks he’s no one special. This person who stood up to an angry man, who challenged her to think about her place in the world, who clearly has some principles compared to most of the people around her. He thinks he’s no one special. She wants to laugh, but she doesn’t. She just takes a drink of the drink that has been sweating on the table next to her lounge. 

“We’ll see,” Blair says, smiling up at him. 

We’ll see.


	6. Chapter 6

Dan arrives at the penthouse the morning after talking to Blair by the pool. He’s ditched his funeral suit for his usual slacks, button-up and v-necked sweater vest. His hair is barely tamed with some pomade, he’s freshly shaved but still has some five o’clock shadow and makes a mental note to sharpen his razor later. He needs to look clean and presentable to hang out with the rich and famous. His worn pencil is in his pocket and he fingers it. His moleskine notebook is in the other. Some things never change. 

The article will be submitted to Rolling Stone. Dan’s mouth fell open when Nate told him this. 

“It’s a win-win.” Nate said, taking a sip of his drink. “You get an exclusive, Rolling Stone features a rising star, the Stardust gets a prominent role. I have a friend there, uh, Howie, or Donnie, or something like that. He’ll get the article in.”

Dan can’t believe his luck. He’d been writing about purple poodles just a few days before. Now he was about to be published nationally. 

“But, Miss Waldorf,” Dan asks, picturing her for about the fiftieth time since he met her and he curses his brain for not behaving itself when it comes to a pretty woman. “I think she hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you.” Nate said smugly. “Far from it. You heard her dedicate that song to you.”

There is a moment of pain in Nate’s eyes, a brief flicker, and Dan starts to understand why Nate Archibald is Blair Waldorf’s biggest defender. He’s a fool in love. Is there anyone who isn’t in love with Blair Waldorf? Well, anyone outside of him. She’s just a pretty girl. That’s all. A pretty girl. 

“Okay,” Dan says. That was when he left his meeting and found Blair by the pool. That led to her telling him to meet her for breakfast the next day, and that led to him standing in the lobby of the Stardust with his stomach doing flips. He wonders what a day in the life Blair Waldorf will really be like. 

Dan steps into the elevator and pushes the button for the penthouse. The elevator jerks a little as it rises, not helping his stomach and Dan tells himself several times that he’s a professional. He can do this, be around Blair, remain impartial, observe her as an outsider. 

The door opens and Blair’s assistant is standing there, waiting. They must have called upstairs. Dan extends his hand. She looks shocked at first then hesitantly takes it and gives him a non-committal semi-firm handshake. 

“Dan Humphrey.”

“Camille.” the girl says, smiling a little. It must be hard to be an assistant to the rich and famous. This girl looks beaten down. 

“Here to see Miss Waldorf.”

“I know,” Camille says, her tone a little defensive. “She’s eating breakfast. She said to show you in.”

Dan follows Camille down the hall, his recently shined shoes clicking on the marble floor and he keeps his eyes forward, not wanting to appear rude by peering into the rooms they pass by. Finally they reach the balcony where Blair is sitting in her dressing gown, a handsome man in a suite across from her. Dan recognizes him. Anyone who has been in Las Vegas would. Chuck Bass. 

“Miss Waldorf?” Camille says meekly. Blair looks up and sees Dan standing there. She opens her mouth to say something when Chuck, who has been looking Dan up and down, speaks.

“Are you delivering something? Papers maybe?”

Dan doesn’t know what to say. Chuck Bass, son of Bart Bass, all around bad boy, womanizer, involved in various shady dealings, is way out of his league. 

“No,” Blair says, sounding irritated, “He’s with me today. A little project to placate Nate and thank him for his hospitality.”

Bass jumps up and takes Dan’s hand in a strong grip. 

“So, you are?”

“D. R. Humphrey.” Blair says before Dan can answer. Dan glances over at her and sees her lips twitch a little, and he knows she’s teasing him by using his pen name. Chuck eyes flicker quickly with recognition and he drops Dan’s hand. 

“Never heard the name,” Chuck says. “Maybe I haven’t read your writing yet. Nice to meet you, D. R.”

“Um, you can call me Dan.” Dan stutters. 

“Oh, wait, I know you.” Chuck says almost too smoothly and Dan knows he’s lying about not recognizing his name. “The hero. The one you dedicated a song to the other night. It was an amazing concert. You should have been there to hear your dedication. Blair was on fire.”

“I was there,” Dan says. His eyes go back to Blair who looks surprised to hear Dan was in the audience. 

“I didn’t know you were watching,” she says, looking a little flustered. “I had no idea....”

“It was very moving,” Dan says, locking gazes with Blair, and for a moment everyone around them, Chuck, Camille, melt away and it’s just the two of them. Then as quickly as it happened, the moment is gone. 

“Anyway, nice to meet you, man.” Chuck says. “We were just having breakfast.”

Dan looks at Chuck in his immaculate suit and then to Blair in her dressing gown, her feet bare, and he sees that she’s blushing even more. Dan begins to realize he might have stumbled into an intimate moment, and then, like she’s reading his mind, Blair stammers a little too quickly.

“It’s not what it looks like.”

Chuck stands up and walks over to stand next to Blair. He leans down and kisses her on the cheek.

“Maybe it’s exactly what it looks like,” he purrs, glancing over at Dan. “I have a meeting to go to anyway. See you later love.”

Chuck slides out of the room, smooth and graceful, and Dan shivers a little, feeling like after that he might need a shower. Blair watches him leave then returns her attention to Dan. 

“So, are you dating Chuck Bass?” Dan asks. Everyone knows Chuck Bass is bad news. 

“That’s what the tabloids are saying,” Blair says coyly. “So I guess it’s true.”

Dan doesn’t push it further. 

“Well, I’m ready for our day.” Dan says, changing the subject. “What do you have planned? What does a starlet do with her time?”

“More than you might think,” Blair says playfully. 

Dan learns that day that Blair is right. She does a lot more than he expects. 

They start the day with her manager, discussing when to start recording her next album. Her manager is named Tommy and he ticks down a list of well-known musicians who have asked to work with her. Dan scribbles away, impressed. Blair Waldorf may be using her daddy’s money to launch her career, but she’s also the real deal, a bonafide singer. 

After meeting with her manager, Blair calls her father.

“I love him, you know.” Blair says as Dan watches her from a chair in the living room of her penthouse, as if she has to explain her father to him. “he’s not perfect, but he’s my daddy.”

Dan regrets the way he lambasted Blair’s dad. 

Lunch is a diet plate and a glass of champagne that Blair sips as she rattles off a to-do list to her assistant, Camille, whom Dan has learned Blair calls Mary-Lisa. He makes a mental note to tactfully drop Camille’s name in hopes that Blair might actually call her assistant the correct name.

After lunch Blair goes for her massage and spa treatment. Dan manages to control his smirk but Blair notices it anyway. He wonders if he can get anything past her.

“Laugh all you want, I have an image to keep up. Glamour is part of it. Yes, it’s luxury, but it’s also a necessity.” 

Dan sits next to her, feeling more than awkward in the middle of the spa with Blair Waldorf wrapped in a fluffy white robe.

“So, what do you like to do for fun?” Blair asks, her face covered in green mud, cucumbers over her eyelids. Dan startled, not expecting her to ask him questions.

“I, um, well, I like to read.”

“Oh, me too!” Blair exclaimed. “What do you like to read?”

“Well, Kerouac, Ginsberg...”

Blair turns her head towards Dan and her cucumbers almost fell off.

“Howl!” she exclaims. “I almost died the first time I read that. Isn’t it amazing? I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked, dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix...”

Blair’s voice trails off. 

“Angel-headed hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night.” Dan finishes, glad that he’d memorized parts of Howl, . 

They are silent for a moment, both of them remembering the first time they’d read Ginsberg’s epic poem. 

“Amazing.” Blair says, not really to him, not really to herself. 

After the spa they return to the penthouse. The sun is low in the sky, casting a orange-yellow light over everything. The air is hazy, typical for Las Vegas. Dan stands in front of the floor to ceiling windows and stares out into the city that has become his home away from home. Blair tells Camille to fix Dan and drink and excuses herself. It’s time to get ready for the show. Blair has told him it’s not as simple feat. It involves a stylist, a makeup artist. She has to pick a new gown every night. An hour later she emerges. 

Tonight it’s pink. Not the soft, feminine pink she was wearing when Dan first met her, but hot, blazing pink brocade. The gown is fitted, with a long, straight sheath-style skirt that has slits up both sides. The neck is high, not the plunging bodice Dan had seen her in the other night. It’s almost Oriental inspired, and Blair’s hair is swept up and secured with a pair of chopsticks. She’s wearing a pair of matching pink satin pumps that make her ankles look even more slender. Dan would think she was the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, except that he can’t think at all. 

He’s in trouble. So much trouble. 

“So, do I look acceptable to sing in front of hundreds of people?” Blair asks, twirling. 

“Uh, um...yeah.” Dan stammers, and Blair looks satisfied that she has this effect on him, as if she’s somehow won, and Dan thinks she may have. Even the self-righteous have a weakness for beautiful women. 

Blair heads to her dressing room. Dan heads home. He has a lot of notes, needs to start working on his article. Blair kisses him on the cheek and thanks him for a nice day. Dan blushes.

So much trouble. 

Blair Waldorf is surprisingly different than he expected. She’s smart. She’s business savvy. She’s way more than the spoiled diva he thought she was. 

He likes her. 

Dammit. 

When Dan gets home he’s practically attacked by Jenny, who is dressed for work and clearly has been working for him. She’s talking a mile a minute, asking a million questions. Ever since Jenny found out that Dan was going to be working at the Stardust, interviewing stars, and even better, spending day with BLAIR WALDORF, she hadn’t left Dan alone. 

“what was she like was she nice what did you do tell me everything did you actually get to eat meals with her and was Chuck Bass there I heard they’re dating don’t leave out any detail!”

Jenny is practically dancing, and Dan laughs. 

“In good time, sis. You need to get to work.”

“I can’t believe my brother knows Blair Waldorf, is friends with BLAIR WALDORF. She’ll probably be in the casino tonight. I should say hi, or something.”

Dan laughs. Life is so simple for his little sister sometimes.

“We’re not exactly friends,” Dan says, heading to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee since it’s going to be a late night working. “It’s just a business deal. It’s just work.” 

He doesn’t tell Jenny that he actually had a really good time with Blair. She doesn’t need any fuel added to her fire. 

Dan ends up staying up into the wee hours of the morning, finally dragging himself to bed when he has a good first draft to show Nate in the morning. He wants to show his new boss that he’s a hard worker. He doesn’t sleep well, so he’s bleary eyed the next morning when someone knocking on the door jerks him out of sleep. Dan stumbles out of bed, rubbing his eyes, wondering who is bothering him. He’s wearing a stained t-shirt and boxer shorts, the only thing he can sleep in and stay comfortable in the Vegas heat. His hair is sticking up all over the place, flat on one side, tangled in the back. He rubs his chin and feels five o’clock shadow. Who could it be? They’ve been on time with their rent. They aren’t noisy. He pads down the hallway to the fake-wood front door and pulls it open to find...

Blair Waldorf. 

“What the hell?” Dan asks, then immediately apologizes for being just a little shocked to find her standing in the hallway of their dilapidated apartment building. He thinks most people would be. 

“Its my turn today.” Blair says breezily, pushing past him. 

“What?” Dan says, still not understanding why Blair Waldorf is standing in his apartment wearing dark blue capri pants and a white top, and blindingly white tennis shoes, looking fresh and well-rested, her hair pulled back in a scarf. Blair Waldorf. 

“You know, A Day in the Life? Your life?” Blair looks around, taking in the shabby furnishings of their apartment. There’s a plate of half-eaten dinner on the table, a dirty coffee mug and Dan’s typewriter surrounded by papers. Their couch is a used, threadbare two seater someone moving out gave them. Dan and Jenny couldn’t afford to bring furniture out from New York, so they’d sat on the floor for a couple months until Jenny scored the couch from the apartment downstairs. The coffee table is one they found in alley, complete with water rings. Dan feels embarrassed, small. 

“How, uh, how did you find where I live?” Dan asks, grabbing the plate off the table and putting it in the sink. It clinks loudly. 

“Oh, I have my ways,” Blair says, winking. “well, I have Nate. You filled out an application for employment. It had your address on it.”

“Okay.”

“Can I sit down?” Blair asks. Dan nods, then asks her if she wants a drink. They have water, maybe a bottle of beer in the fridge, then he feels like an ass for offering beer in the morning. She says no thank you. She’s fine. 

“So, what are we doing today?” Blair asks, perching on the edge of his couch, looking entirely out of place. 

“I don’t really know.” Dan stammers, still feeling in shock. “But, uh, wait for just a moment. There’s one thing I have to do.”

Dan pads back down the hallway, running a hand through his hair, trying to smooth it down and make it look presentable, completely forgetting that he’s still wearing his boxers and t-shirt. He taps on Jenny’s bedroom door. He knows his sister has only been sleeping for a couple hours.

“Go away,” she yells after he’s tapped even louder. Dan smiles.

“You might want to get up.” he says. “There’s something you’ll want to see.”

“Beat feet Daniel,” Jenny yells through the thin door and Dan hears a thump as a pillow hits the other side. 

“Seriously.”

There’s some noises from the other side of the door, the sound of Jenny crawling off the mattress on the floor she sleeps on. The doorknob turns and she peers out, her hair sticking up everywhere.

“This had better be good.”

“It’s good.” Dan promises. 

Jenny is wearing a babydoll nightgown, the same one she’s worn forever. She looks about twelve years old dressed like this. She follows Dan down the hallway and Dan smiles as he hears his sister scream from behind him.

“AHHHHHHHHHHH. BLAIR WALDORF!!!!!”

He told her it would be worth it.


	7. Chapter 7

Dan shows Blair his typewriter. 

He’d left her with Jenny perched next to her, still in her nightgown, chatting away excitedly, and gone to get showered and dressed. When he emerged he was wearing a pair of blue jeans, a clean t-shirt, his hair tamed, his face shaved. Blair had smiled at him as he entered the living room, a pleading smile, to please save her from his crazy sister. Dan understood. 

Dan tapped Jenny on the shoulder.

“You have to work tonight, sis.” 

“You’re right.” 

Jenny headed back to her bedroom, mouthing the word “wow” at Dan as she brushed past him, and now Dan and Blair stood in their tiny kitchen staring at his typewriter. 

“Really?” Blair says, glancing over at him. 

“I told you that I’m boring.” Dan answers. “This is where I spend most of my time.”

It’s evident Dan is telling the truth, a pile of crumpled sheets to one side of the machine, a stack of fresh paper on the other. A cup of half-drank coffee from the night before. The story he’s working on is neatly stacked on the table behind the typewriter. Blair walks over and picks it up.

“Is this the story about me?” she asks. Dan feels himself blushing. 

“Yeah.”

“Can I read it?”

“I don’t know, if you want to, but it’s not finished. You might want to wait for the final version.”

Blair sets his first draft back down on the table. Dan tries not to let out a sigh of relief. Blair reading his writing feels strange, vulnerable.

“Maybe.” she says. Then, back to the subject at hand. “So, what first?”

Dan laughs. 

“Breakfast.” he says. “Isn’t that what most people start their day with?”

Blair glares at him. Dan goes to the fridge and peers in, seeing a mostly drank carton of milk and no eggs. He remembers he has to go to the store today. That should keep the venerable Miss Waldorf entertained. Grocery shopping. Dan sighs. It’s going to be a long day. 

They end up at the diner down the street, Dan downing a plate of greasy eggs and potatoes and Blair looks on, amused. Dan thinks it’s probably not the classy kind of joint she’s used to. The food is basic, served fast, the booths are full of men on their way to work, not wearing suits and ties, but work shirts and jeans, their hands calloused, their language rough, and mothers with their children, wiping snotty noses and looking generally exasperated.

They talk as he eats and Blair sips a mug of black coffee. She says the coffee is good. Dan feels like she’s probably being polite, but when he takes a drink of from his own mug, he agrees with her. Blair asks Dan about his life. 

Where did he grow up?

Brooklyn, Dan answers. Blair laughs and tells him she grew up in Manhattan, but then says that he probably already knows that. Dan wonders what it is like living a life where everyone feels like they already know everything about you. 

The grocery store is next. They walk to the Piggly Wiggly down the street and Blair helps Dan pick out bread, milk, eggs, butter. Dan says something about this being pretty boring and Blair looks at him with shock. 

“This is far from boring, Humphrey.” she says, smiling. It’s an honest smile and Dan is surprised how much she seems to be enjoying herself. “I’ve never been to a grocery store before.”

“Really?” 

“Really. Someone else goes for us at home and here I just have the kitchen make whatever I want, so I’ve never had to buy groceries.”

“Well, then you need a souvenir.” Dan laughs. He grabs an extra paper bag with the Piggly Wiggly logo splashed across its front. “For your memory book.”

Blair accepts the bag graciously with a dazzling smile. Dan feels his chest clench a little. 

They walk back to Dan’s apartment, the temperature already rising, Blair fanning herself. She usually spends her day in air conditioning. Dan waits for her to start complaining but she never does. As if he didn’t already have enough reasons to like Blair Waldorf. 

“So, when does your car pick you up?” Dan asks as he fumbles for his keys outside the door to their apartment. 

“I thought maybe you could drive me home.” Blair says, “You know, make the day complete.”

She is not going to give up. Finally Dan starts to accept that not only is Blair Waldorf going to spend the entire day with him, she actually seems to be enjoying slumming, taking in the Humphrey lifestyle. 

“What else would you usually do today?” Blair asks, leaning against the kitchen counter, watching Dan put groceries away. 

“I don’t know, write?” he answers. It’s his usual pattern. Sit at the kitchen table, pound away on his typewriter. If he’s not working on an article, he’s working on his book. “Jenny will be up in the afternoon so I usually make her dinner and set it out.”

“That’s sweet. Where does she work?” 

“At the Stardust, working the tables. She’s seen you, you know, after your shows. She’s a big fan.”

Blair laughs. 

“I noticed.”

Blair pulls out one of the kitchen chairs and settles into it. Dan pushes his typewriter to the side, tidies up some papers and sits down across from her. 

“What I don’t get,” he starts, feeling nervous for some reason, “is why you're’ doing this.”

“Doing what?” Blair asks, blinking innocently. 

“This,” Dan gestures around him. “Following me around all day. I mean, you have everything and here you are, sitting in my tiny kitchen, watching me put bread and eggs away.”

Blair sighs. She looks away from him for a moment, then back, her brow a little furrowed.

“I don’t know.” she starts. “there’s just something about you. All my life everyone protects me, and I’ve always accepted it. Then you came along and told me things, told me the truth, and it was really hard to hear, but it’s something no one else will do. I like that.”

“You mean about your father’s factories.”

“Yes. I’ve always accepted that it’s just that way down there. That people knew their place, and it’s not like it’s that different in New York. Just no signs. But you made me think. Why have I always just accepted it. Why are you this way? Why do you see things differently? Why don’t you accept things too?”

Dan thinks for a moment. It’s a hard question. Why does he care about civil rights and the plight of the negro? Then he has an answer.

“My dad’s a musician.” Dan tells Blair. “He’s not famous or anything, plays backup for lots of different people, but that’s the world I grew up in. He’s always had lots of friends, and the music community diverse, so we always had all kinds of different people around. I got to meet some really famous people, like Coltrane, Bird, and some not so famous really talented people but they’d never get any recognition. Doors were closed to them because of their skin color. My dad has always talked about how wrong it is, so I guess it’s just part of what I grew up with.”

Blair looks captivated, leaning in towards him. Dan feels a little light-headed. She asks him to tell her more. 

He tells her about the Freedom Riders, buses full of people determined to challenge the status quo, how they were met with violence, mobs of people determined to stop them from taking a stand. His dad had been on one of those Freedom Rides. He tells her about the peole who are working for civil rights, who are taking their own lives into their own hands. He tells her that in the south you can be killed for looking at a girl the wrong way, for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, just because of your skin color. When he was done Blair thanks him.

“I just never knew.” she says. 

Dan realizes that they’ve talked well past lunch time. He apologizes and makes them a couple sandwiches with bologna and mayonnaise. Blair says she’s never had anything like it before. Dan laughs at the face she makes but she still eats the entire thing.

“Not the fancy fare you’re used to.” Dan says wryly. 

“You know, you keep talking about how privileged I am.” Blair says, taking her plate over to the sink. “But I’m here on my own volition. I’m fine with bologna sandwiches. You’re the one who's embarrassed.”

She’s right. 

Dan looks at the clock on the wall. The sun is starting to slip down in the sky and Jenny will be up soon. He decides to change the subject.

“Well, unless you want to be attacked by my little sister again, I should get you back.” Dan says politely. Blair looks surprised.

“I don’t have to go back so soon. There’s not a show tonight.”

“Well, I think staying here could be dangerous for you.”

Blair laughs. Dan likes her laugh, it’s heart and delicate at the same time. It’s genuine. It makes him smile. 

“Then, let’s end this day with you showing me the one thing you love the most about Vegas.”

For most people it would be the shows, or maybe the pretty girls, or the do-what-you-want debauchery. It’s none of those for Dan. They end up in his old, beat up car heading out of the city as the sun slips behind the horizon and the sky starts to turn a rich, midnight blue. As they leave the lights of the city behind them, Blair leans against the door of the car, her hair blowing in the wind, and Dan can’t resist glancing over at her now and then, and he feels his heart start to soar, just like the first night he heard her sing. 

They finally go around a bend to the ridge that Dan comes to sometimes, on those nights when Jenny is working and he can’t sleep. He pulls the car over and turns off the engine. 

“This is what I like the most about Vegas.” Dan says, and Blair frowns because they have left the city far behind, are sitting in the middle of nowhere with only the tumbleweeds to keep them company. 

“I don’t get it.” she says. 

“The stars.” Dan gestures to the sky and Blair looks up and gasps. 

They are both from the city, both live with light all around them, never looking up at the sky, and even if they did, they wouldn’t see this. The sky is black velvet, littered with sparkling, shiny dots of light everywhere you look, stretching out above them, disappearing into the horizon. 

“It’s beautiful,” Blair says quietly. “I’ve never seen anything like it.” 

“Me either.” 

Dan isn’t talking about the night sky anymore. He’s talking about Blair. As he talks, he watches her, taking in her face, her eyes, the bow of her lips, and his heart is still soaring, flying, and Dan swallows, because he wants...he wants...

He wants to kiss Blair Waldorf. 

It’s like an all-consuming force and he leans toward her without even realizing it, until he does realize it and jerks back.

“Sorry.” Dan stammers, looking away.

“For what?”

Dan looks back. Blair is closer to him, her eyes are wide, sparkling like the stars above and he promises himself to never forget this moment as long as he lives, sitting under the stars in the Nevada desert with the most beautiful woman he’s ever known.

“For wanting to kiss me?” Blair whispers. Dan can’t answer, just nods. “I don’t mind...”

“You don’t?” 

What about Chuck Bass, what about the fact that he’s a struggling reporter, what about them coming from different worlds. What about the fact that he’s already in too deep and if he kisses her he’ll be lost forever? He should be asking himself all these things, but Dan doesn’t ask any of them. 

“I really don’t mind.” Blair is closer now, and Dan is starting to feel that tingle of anticipation. He leans forward, slowly, nervous, not entirely sure, and then....

“Dammit, Humphrey,” Blair says then mumbles something about not being fast enough, leans in and kisses him.


	8. Chapter 8

The moment Blair Waldorf kisses Dan Humphrey, she’s almost sure this is what she’s been waiting for her entire life. She’s not sure why, or why him. Maybe it’s sitting in the middle of the Nevada desert with the stars twinkling above, breathtakingly beautiful. Maybe it’s that Dan doesn’t cater to her but treats her like just another person. Maybe it’s the way he smells, clean and spicy. 

The moment he kisses her back Blair can no longer ponder why any of this is happening because all capacity for rational thought flees her head as his lips part hers, his hands tangle in her hair, and he pulls her even closer to him until she can feel the heat of his body. 

Blair groans, a deep, hungry sound coming from the pit of her belly, the sound of desire, and she finally realizes what it means to want someone because she wants Dan more than she’s ever wanted anyone. Blair never wants this to end. 

Then it does. 

He breaks away from her, pushes at her, and Blair feels the heat of embarrassment rise up her cheeks. She was wrong. How could she have thought he would want her. She’s everything he hates in this world - she is steeped privilege, wealthy. Why would Dan Humphrey want her? 

“I...uh, I’m sorry.” Dan stammers, refusing to look at her. “I don’t know why I did that, it must be this place...I don’t know.”

Blair doesn’t say anything, her lips still tingling, her insides still melting. She smooths her hair and looks out the window into the darkness, trying to make out anything: a cactus, an abandoned shanty, anything that will keep her from looking back at him, because then he’ll see the tears that are starting to sting her eyes. 

Dan starts the car and it shudders to life. What had been a perfect day has turned into something else. Blair has never felt more rejected. She’s usually the one doing the rejecting, stringing men along, batting her eyelashes, giving them just enough to keep them coming back for more but never enough that they tire of her. She’s a master at the game, but this doesn’t feel like a game. This feels real, and it scares her. 

They say nothing as he drives her back to the Stardust, Blair not seeing the neon signs as they enter into Las Vegas again, not seeing the people walking down the strips, the giant posters of dancing girls. Dan pulls under the brilliantly lit overhang at the Stardust and Blair pushes the door open. This time there are no photographers, no one to capture the moment and declare it real by publishing it in the tabloids. They should be there though, forever documenting Blair Waldorf exiting a beat up old blue car covered with dust, her mouth drawn, her eyes sad. Otherwise maybe this moment will cease to exist. Life defined by the tabloids, that’s what she usually lives. Until tonight. 

Blair bends over and peers through the window over at Dan. He’s still looking forward. 

“Thank you,” she says, her voice sincere, wanting him to turn and look at her. This has been the best day of her life, a day where she’s felt normal, not like a freak. He’s talked to her like his peer. She’s been made to feel welcome and cared for. Even if it ended badly, the rest of the day is something she’ll remember for a very long time. 

Dan turns to her and she sees that his face is blank, tense. Her eyes travel to his hands and they are gripping the steering wheel, white knuckled. 

“My pleasure,” Dan says, and then, out of nowhere, he breaks into a smile, and Blair is taken aback by his warmth, and for a moment she thinks maybe she’s wrong. Maybe that kiss wasn’t a disaster. Maybe there’s been a misunderstanding, and if she climbs back into the passenger side of his car and tells him to drive, maybe whatever just happened can happen again and they can make sense of it. 

As quickly as the moment happens, it’s gone, and his face is back to blank. 

“I’ll see you around,” Blair says.

“Yeah.”

“I’d like to read your article, if you don’t mind.”

“I’ll bring it by.” Dan answers, and they both know he’s lying. 

“Okay.”

Blair stands up and is about to turn around when she hears him call out her name. She leans back down and looks at him. 

“I’m really sorry.”

Blair says nothing. She steps back and Dan’s car moves forward, a little too fast, and his tires squeal as he rushes away from her. Blair sighs. She is tired and everything feels different than it did this morning. All she wants to do is go back to the penthouse, collapse into her bed and sleep. Maybe she’ll have more clarity in the morning. She steps into the elevator, pushing the button for the penthouse, remembering how she’s left that morning feeling excited for her day, excited to see Dan again. Now her heart is heavy and her mind is spinning. Everything has changed. 

Blair steps off the elevator and into the penthouse when she hears someone squeal her name.

“B!!!!”

Before Blair can even respond, the person saying her name is flying toward her, a mass of blond hair, throwing her arms around Blair’s neck and hugging her tight. 

Serena.

“S.” Blair says, trying not to sound tired, trying to look excited. It’s not that she’s not happy to see Serena, it’s just that Serena brings complications, and Blair finds her friend being around isn’t always a good thing. 

Serena pulls back and smiles that golden smile that has made her an international modeling success. Last Blair had heard, Serena was living in a collective in Stockholm and doing lingerie work on the side, that she’d taken an older poet as a lover and was writing some herself. That had been her newest passion, and when Serena become interested in something, she doesn't hold back. Having known Serena most of her life, Blair knows that her showing up in Vegas isn’t coincidence. Serena always runs to her when things get uncomfortable, and it always involves a man. She’s guessing that an affair went bad or someone’s wife found out about her, and now Serena is seeking refuge in the arms of her oldest friend once again. 

“I’ve been waiting for you. Your assistant said you should have been back hours ago, and a handsome man has been calling for you as well. A Chuck Bass.”

Chuck. Blair’s heart sinks even further. She can’t even think about him now. He’d been a bit of a joke in the first place, a moment of fun, and now, after what happened, well, he’s the furthest person from her mind. 

“He left a message, said you were supposed to go out tonight?”

Blair had forgotten. Another date, another frantic display for the press, another outing for the supposedly perfect pairing where they can see and be seen. She’s never felt that comfortable with how public Chuck likes to be about their relationship, but now it makes her stomach turn. Like he’s been pulling the strings all along. 

Serena is staring at Blair, waiting for a response.

“Oh yeah,” Blair manages to mutter. “I’ll call him tomorrow.”

She won’t call Chuck tomorrow. Tomorrow will be for Dan, and the next day and the day after that. Tomorrow seems an eternity away and yesterday seems like a different lifetime, and already she’s trying to figure out how she can see him, how she can be near him, and Blair has never felt this way about a boy before.

“Well, he seemed nice enough.” Serena harumphs. “Anyway, can I crash here B?” 

Serena already knows the answer. Blair has never turned her away. Even when she was in the middle of that scandal with the married senator and needed somewhere to stay until the dust settled, and the press camped outside of the Waldorf New York penthouse for weeks. 

Blair tells Mary-Lisa to show Blair to the guest room and she heads down the hallway to her own bedroom. Blair strips off her clothes. She stands naked in the middle of the room, looking in the mirror. She’s well proportioned, nice breasts, her hips a little wide. She should be everything a man wants, but Dan had stopped kissing her, had pulled back. She pulls on her pajamas and crawls into bed, and although she’s not sure if she’ll be able to sleep, it’s not long before she’s drifting off.

The morning sunshine doesn’t enlighten Blair about her newfound situation. She wakes feeling foggy-headed, sleeping clinging to her stubbornly. When she walks into the dining room she finds Serena sitting at the table, dressed in a long, flowing bohemian dress. She tells Blair it’s from France, straight off the runway, the new look. Serena’s hair is down and she pushes it out of her eyes now and then as she talks non-stop. 

“You should see the flowers, I mean, I don’t think I’ve seen roses that beautiful.”

Blair blinks, not sure why they’re talking about flowers.

“Roses?” she asks.

“B! Have you even been listening? They were delivered this morning. Three dozen.”

Roses. Chuck. 

“Oh,” Blair stammers, “I’m still waking up.”

“There’s a card.” Serena says, pushing a small white envelope across the table. Blair opens it, despite having a good idea what it will say.

Missed you last night.  
Business trip for the next few days.   
I’ll miss you every day. 

C. B.

Blair is amazed at how little she cares. Normally this display of affection would thrill her, physical evidence of how wrapped around her little finger a man is, but it means nothing. When Chuck gets back she’ll tell him that they have to end it. However he wants to, she’ll do it. She’ll make him look good, make it her fault, but it has to be over. Chuck doesn’t really love her anyway. He loves the games they play. He loves the idea of her. He doesn’t actually love Blair Waldorf. 

Her show is tonight so Blair doesn't have a lot of time before she has to start her transformation into diva with a capital D. She needs to find him, to see him. Blair says goodbye to Serena, tells her they can meet up later, then head out to find Nate. He’ll know where Dan is. 

Nate is in his private lounge that often doubles as an office, an Old Fashioned sitting on the table in front of him, an accounting book spread out in front of him, and pile after pile of cash. He’s counting each pile and writing numbers into the book. When she walks in, he looks up and smiles. Blair smiles back.

“It’s not all fun and games, doll,” Nate quips. “Gotta do the books before we start it all over again tonight.”

She doesn’t usually see him this early. The Nate Blair is used to is the one who entertains with flair, who charms the ladies, who makes everyone feel welcome. This is the business side of Nate, and she knows he has a good reputation. 

“Um, have you heard from Dan?” Blair asks, feeling like her voice gives her away, waiting for Nate to ask why she cares about some random reporter. 

“Humphrey?” Nate asks. Blair nods. “He called this morning, said he needs some more time on the article. I don’t think he’ll be in today.”

Blair carefully hides her disappointment. 

The day flies by. Blair keeps herself busy, chews out Mary-Lisa, does some publicity photos for the casino. She goes through her nightly routine to get ready for her show. She decides to walk through the casino instead of the maze of back hallways, pretending that she’s not looking for someone. She spies a blond girl at one of the tables and walks over.

“Jenny.” Blair says. Jenny looks up and her eyes grow wide.

“Miss Waldorf, I, um I...hi. I really hope my dorky brother didn’t scare you off. He can be so boring sometimes, I just want to die. I can’t believe you were in our apartment yesterday. I mean really, pinch me!”

Blair smiles. 

“No, he didn’t scare me off. I just wanted to say ‘hi’ before the show.”

“Oh, the show. I’ve heard so many good things about it. I wish I could go sometime, I mean, just amazing things.”

The girl talks a mile a minute. 

“It’s my birthday tomorrow and if I wasn’t working, your show is the one place I’d want to be, but I’m here so Dan was going to make a little cake and...”

“Wait,” Blair interrupts the hyper-verbal stream of consciousness run-on sentence. “your birthday is tomorrow?”

“Yeah, 22.”

“And you’re working?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

It takes a quick stop in Nate’s office for Blair to fix it and Jenny has her birthday night off as well as a free ticket to see Blair’s show. The next night Blair sings happy birthday and dedicates it to Jenny Humphrey. She’s sure the girl is thrilled. 

Blair finally runs into Dan the day after Jenny’s birthday. She’s making her way to the casino, using the back hallways when she rounds a corner and almost runs into him. 

“Blair!”

He is holding a stack of papers and Blair looks at them then back at Dan.

“Is that my article?” she asks. 

“I’m taking the final version to Nate.”

“Were you nice?”

“I didn’t write one negative thing,” Dan says and a smile flashes on his face. Blair’s breath catches a little.

“You never gave it to me to read.”

Dan looks embarrassed.

“I guess I didn’t.” 

They stand, staring at each other, saying nothing. Then Dan speaks again.

“What you did for Jenny was pretty great. She kept me up all night afterward.”

Blair smiles. 

“I was happy to do it. She’s your sister, and I care about you....”

Her voice trails off. They are silent again, her words hanging between them. 

“Look,” 

“Blair,”

Blair and Dan speak at the same time. 

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Blair says. 

“I can’t...”

“Did what happened mean nothing to you? Did I disgust you that much? I’m starting to feel like it never happened with the cold shoulder I’ve been receiving.”

“It didn’t mean nothing.”

“Then why?”

He’s so handsome in the dimly lit hallway. She wants to kiss him again, to feel his lips on hers. Blair feels desire coiling deep in her belly, winding its way up, making her shiver a little. 

“Because...” Dan stammers, looking distraught and sad and a whole mix of other emotions. “Because...dammit....”

He stops talking and suddenly he’s pushing Blair against the cold cement of the wall, his mouth crashing into hers, and she’s kissing him back with the same desperation, and it’s like that night in the desert under the stars all over again. His hands are in her hair again and this time she slides her fingers up his muscled back, liking the way he feels, pulling him closer...closer...so close.

Dan breaks away again.

“I’m not like you.” he pants. “I’m not part of your world.”

“I don’t care,” Blair gasps, wanting him to stop talking and kiss her again. Talking seems to ruin everything. Kissing makes it better.

“I’m not someone you can slum with.”

Blair blinks. Serena slums. Blair doesn’t. 

“I’m not slumming.”

“You’ll move on, to someone who fits better with you.”

“I won’t.”

“Blair.” Dan begs. He’s looking at her, eyes full of desperation, his face full of pain. Blair wants to take her hand and smooth his brow and take it all away, but his words have made it clear that she doesn’t have the right, that he’s not going to let her. “It’s better for this to never have happened. It was just one crazy moment.”

Blair wants to tell him that the problem with his plan is that it did happen, and she can’t forget, and she can’t stop thinking about him, but she knows he won’t listen. For whatever reason, and knowing him, he sincerely feels this is the right thing to do, Dan Humphrey is determined to break her heart. 

She feels the cracks starting. Blair knows this isn’t going to be pretty. 

“Okay.” Blair says. “If that’s what you want.”

“It not what I want,” Dan blurts out. “It’s what has to happen.” 

She takes his hand in hers, grips it tightly, brings it to her mouth and places a single kiss on its back. Then, not saying another word, Blair turns and walks away. 

Two more days pass. Blair has stopped looking for Dan. She cries herself to sleep. She thinks there has to be a way to make this work, to cross the divide between them. Because what she’s feeling is the realest thing she has ever experienced.

Serena is still in the penthouse, staying out late, coming home tipsy and crawling into bed with Blair to regale her with tales of the men she’s charmed that night. She dances all night and never pays for her drinks, and gets flowers every morning. She’s still the same Serena. 

Chuck is back, calling her every day, showing up for breakfast. He has no clue that everything is different. He gives her a long box tied up with a bow and when she opens it she finds a beautiful diamond bracelet, something Blair would have loved in the past. Instead it sparkles with accusation, reminding her that people are suffering. She lies and says she loves it. Chuck lies and says he missed her. She knows it’s only a matter of time before she ends it, but since Dan has made it clear that she has no one to go to, Blair doesn’t have a sense of urgency anymore. She gives the bracelet to Mary-Lisa and asks her to find out its worth, then Blair donates that much money to a local charity that feeds people on the down and out. It assuages some of the guilt. 

She does her shows, singing half-heartedly, not feeling the thrill she did when she first arrived. She goes through the motions. Then one night everything shifts. 

Blair is finished with her show. She changes clothes and freshens up, then heads toward the casino for her nightly appearance that has become a dreary obligation. She glances over at the tables to find Jenny and waves, just like she’s started doing every night. Jenny smiles and waves back. Then Blair stops, frozen, because she sees him. 

Dan.

Blair wants to call out his name, to rush up to him, but she doesn’t. She just stands there and watches. He’s sitting at one of the tables, and she wonders why he’s here, because he hates this scene, hates this side of Las Vegas. Then she sees Serena come up to him, place a hand on his shoulder. Dan looks up at her and smiles, nods. Blair feels her chest start to burn. Serena says something and Dan laughs and then Serena slides into Dan’s lap, throws her arms around Dan’s neck and kisses him.

Blair starts to fall apart.


	9. Chapter 9

Dan is in love. He knows it the moment her lips touch his. He’s not sure why this is happening, why with her, why anyone could fall in love with just a kiss, but he does know it’s real. He should be Bam, Zoom, Straight to the Moon, but he’s not. 

It’s not like it was just the kiss. He likes Blair Waldorf. He didn’t want to, didn’t want her to be anything other than a spoiled rich girl, another assignment he has to struggle through, no different than the lady with the purple poodles. Except she is different. She’s beautiful and intelligent, and he could talk with her for hours. So by the end of the day they’ve spent together when she closes those millimeters between their lips, placing hers on his, and they are soft and warm and so amazing, so so amazing, the only thing he can do is kiss her back, deepen the kiss, give into all those emotions roiling around inside him. 

Dan is in love. 

He’s been in love before, or at least he thought he was. Vanessa was love, until everything fell apart. But it wasn’t love. He knows that now. It was nice, it was sex, it was fun. It wasn’t love. This is love. This hurts. 

She will break his heart. 

He doesn’t sleep, staying up all night drinking coffee, writing page after page, not really sure what he’s writing or where it’s going, but he does know it’s about her. Blair. It’s his novel, pouring out in waves, a love letter to her. It’s the beginning, even if Dan doesn't realize it, but at the time it’s compulsion, need to put it all onto paper. 

When he does manage to close his eyes, drift into what he hopes will be a dreamless sleep, she’s always there. Dan jerks awake in the early hours of the morning when the air is actually cool, calls out her name, then he gets up and writes more. 

It doesn’t take Jenny long to figure it out. 

“Something is different.” she says one evening, wolfing down the dinner he’s made for her. “You’re different.”

“I’m fine.” Dan bites back. Jenny watches him, saying nothing, chewing her chicken a la king slowly and deliberately. 

“I know when you lie.” Jenny says. “And you’re lying right now.”

Dan says nothing. He takes his own plate and puts it in the sink, turns on the water and squirts dish soap on it. 

“You know, she’s really nice.”

Dan’s eyebrows go up in surprise. His sister is so young, so innocent, he can’t believe she’s figured this out. 

“Who?” he asks, not turning around, pretending he doesn’t know exactly who Jenny is talking about. 

“Blair.”

Dan tries to keep his face neutral and turns around.

“She’s Blair now?” 

Jenny blushes. She’s embarrassed that she considers someone famous her friend now. 

“She’s nice. She got me the night off and that ticket. She waves at me every night.”

Dan smiles. It was a really nice thing to do for his little sister. Jenny was so excited that Dan wasn’t too hurt when she didn’t want to just hang out and eat the Sara Lee cake he was planning to thaw out. They’d had it for breakfast the next morning and Jenny had gone on and on about how amazing the show, how beautiful Blair had looked, telling Dan that Blair Waldorf had sung ‘Happy Birthday’ to her specifically...BLAIR WALDORF!!! Dan had smiled through all of it, even though it hurt. Just because he loves his sister. He smiles now too. 

“She did do that. That was nice.” 

“Maybe she likes you too.”

Jenny is so young still in so many ways. What Dan is going through is far more than a school-boy crush when a boy likes a girl. This is not homeroom with notes passed or making out behind the bleachers. But in Jenny’s world boy and girls like each other, and famous people are nice and do nice things for her. 

“I don’t think so.” Dan says. 

“You never know. I mean, stranger things have happened. Vanessa liked you, so why wouldn’t Blair?”

Vanessa is a writer like him, grew up in Brooklyn, lives in a dingy walk-up. They are the same. Blair is rich and he’s not, she grew up with chauffeurs, maids and cooks. She’s never been to a grocery story. He can’t give her the life she deserves and one day she’ll realize that she really wants the Chuck Basses of the world, not the Dan Humphreys. There are a lot of good answers to Jenny’s question. Dan doesn’t offer any of them.

“You’re right.” Dan says gently. “Maybe she likes me too.” The words hurt to say out loud because they are so impossible. 

He stays away from Blair. Or at least he tries, but he somehow still ends up pinning her against the cold cinderblock of the hallway the day after his talk with Jenny, exploring her mouth with his tongue, feeling like a starving man who has stumbled on manna from heaven. He never wants to stop but he does, pulling away, trying to hurt her with his words, trying to force her to walk away forever.

If only he hadn’t run into her, if only she hadn’t looked so beautiful, if only her eyes weren’t so sad. 

Dan looks at her, memorizes her face even as he tells her the truth, watching as it stings, but he knows that whatever she’s feeling, if she does like him, maybe even thinks she loves him, it will wear off. There will come a time when she looks at him and realizes that there is so much more in this world than a lowly writer, so many other interesting people, and she will leave him, and his heart will be broken. He might as well deal with the pain now. 

He mopes. Jenny says he’s making moping into an art form, that he needs to get out, maybe he can run into Blair and they can make things right, and Dan shrugs. Nothing will make this right. Nothing. She’s persistent, threatening to spend the entire night perched across from him, talking constantly about nothing. Dan gives in. 

Somehow he ends up at the Casino, filled with smoke and loud people. It’s the last place he wants to be, but Jenny nags him and Nate did tell him he should swing around sometime, that he might have another assignment for him, that he should meet some people, network. Dan is grateful to Archibald for looking out for his well being. 

Dan sits at the bar, sipping a gin and tonic, hating every minute he’s stuck here, when a familiar voice says his name.

“D.R.!!!”

Dan turns, wondering who here is using his pen name only to find someone from his past walking towards him. The golden girl. Serena Van der Woodsen. She is as long, tall and beautiful as ever, wearing a mini, her legs bare, her skin tan from spending days at the pool. Serena. She’s barely changed. 

He’d run into her a year ago, when he was part of a poetry salon, hanging out with beatniks all day, staying up all night, betting on who would be the next Allen Ginsberg. She was dating one of the writers there, a blonde handsome guy who spent half his time stoned out of his gourd and the other half ranting about the threat of communism. Dan would later find out he was a prep school dropout who was busy draining his trust fund in the name of art. Serena would perch on his lap, arms round his neck, laughing giddily, stoned herself, and Dan would stare because at the time she was the most beautiful woman he’d never seen. 

Now she was here, standing in front of him, saying his name. Dan almost corrects her but he doesn’t. He wants to keep that distance, is wary of Serena and the way she works the men around her. He’s seen it and in the end the salon broke up because she slept with another member one night when she got too drunk and all the trust fund guy’s poetry was really about was what a bitch she was, which was boring and would never get published, and Dan thought he wanted more than sitting around pretending to be artists. That was when he’d decided to go with Jenny to Las Vegas. 

“Serena!” Day says. 

“Handsome as ever.” Serena says, fluttering her eyelashes, and Dan wonders how many drinks she’s already had. He laughs, a self deprecating hurumph of a laugh. She’s always been good at flattery. 

“It’s been a long time. What happened to, um, what was his name?”

“Damien?” Serena asks, flipping her hair back over her shoulder. “Oh, I don’t know. Last I heard he was in jail or something and daddy was sending him to rehab. How about you? Are you published?”

Dan doesn’t want to tell Serena that his dreams of beat poetry morphed into local interest pieces, that he’s spent the last six months doing stories about cute chubby babies instead of writing the next ‘Howl’.

“I have a pretty good opportunity, but I don’t want to jinx it.” Dan says, refusing to tell her about his gig at the Stardust. Let it remain a mystery. 

“Oh D.R., you were always so cagey.” Serena laughs. Then, in true Serena style, she plops herself in his lap, throws her arms around his neck and kisses him. 

Dan doesn’t kiss her back. He doesn’t even move. There may have been a time when Serena Van der Woodsen in his lap might have driven him to distraction, maybe even a bad poem could have come out of it, but now, with everything that has happened, all he wants is for her to get up. To leave him alone. Dan is about to gently help her off his lap, to smile politely and say goodbye, thinking that he might kill his sister later for suggesting this stupid idea. He looks around and then he freezes because he sees her. 

Blair.

She’s across the room, staring, her face blank, her eyes wide and horrified. And in that moment Dan knows that she loves him. Not likes him, like Jenny suggested. Not even that she thinks she loves him, but that she loves him, because she is radiating heartbreak so hard he can feel it. Dan stands up quickly and Serena loses her balance and falls towards the floor, and he can’t go after Blair who is turning away from him because he has to steady Serena, and he’s calling out her name. 

“Blair!”

“How do you know Blair?” Serena asks, sounding surprised at this turn of events, and Dan wishes she would stop talking, would leave him alone. He wishes he’d never come here. He walks away from Serena without offering an explanation. As he turns to follow Blair everything else falls away and Dan no longer cares about social status or whether or not Blair is slumming, or if she’ll hurt him in the end. She loves him and he’s hurt her and he has to find her, to make it right. 

He can’t see her through the crowd and men in tuxedos, women with their hair piled high are in his way, and Dan wants to push them way, to yell her name, to make everyone turn and stare, because he has to tell her that he’s been wrong. 

“Blair!”

His voice doesn’t rise above the din of the casino, can’t be heard over the bells and whistles and people talking. Somewhere in a corner a jackpot dings loudly and people cheer. She gone now and Dan stretches up as far as he can, but he can’t see her at all. He calls out her name one last time. 

“Blair!”


	10. Chapter 10

When Dan shows up at the penthouse the lights are all out, the neon of the city giving everything an eerie glow, and all Blair can do is ask him to unzip her. He is breathing fast, like he’s been running, running after her, and she remembers the way their eyes met across the room, the flash of recognition, of understanding, and she’s not surprised to find him here now, his fingers grazing her bare skin as he pulls the zipper of her dress down, his lips pressing on the back of her neck. 

He starts to talk, his breath hot on her skin and Blair asks him not to. She wants to forget, to erase the image of Serena in his lap, Serena kissing him, Serena, the one who always gets what she wants. There is nothing left after what Blair saw, but she still wants this, still wants him. She feels stupid, and even though she should, she doesn’t tell him to stop.

Her dress is hanging open and Dan’s hand go to her waist, turning her around, pulling the fabric off one shoulder, kissing the skin there and Blair gasps as electric shocks course through her body. His lips on her skin eclipse the kiss in the desert, and she knows that this will be the first time and the last time she feels desire like this. She knows she will never be the same after this night. 

Serena kissing Dan flashes through Blair’s head, pierces through the fog of lust that his fallen around her. The pain starts again and then it recedes just as quickly, his mouth kissing her collarbone, taking it away. If she could stay here forever maybe everything would be okay. Except Dan Humphrey is a liar. He told her they couldn’t be together because they were from different worlds, but there he was, Serena in his lap. Serena laughing. Serena kissing him. Serena was good enough for Dan, artsy enough for Dan, even though she and Blair were from the same world he so detested. Blair clearly wasn’t good enough.

“Kiss me,” Blair says breathily, her chest heaving. Dan growls and obliges, his mouth crashing into hers, and this time their kiss is not full of sweetness and longing, it’s rough, grasping for control, consuming, and Blair has never wanted anyone this badly. She wants him to fuck her now, to push her dress up and spread her legs and make her forget everything.

He doesn’t. He slows down, his lips lingering on hers, his teeth worrying her bottom lip, sucking on it and just as suddenly everything is sweet again, and Blair feels her heart break even more. She wraps her arms around his neck, tangles her fingers in his hair, presses herself even closer. 

“Are you sure?” Dan breathes, pulling back from her, foreheads touching, both of them panting. She’s not sure of anything, but she knows she doesn’t want this to stop, so she nods her head yes, closes the gap between their lips, kisses him again. This is the one thing she will have when they are done. This memory. She’s not going to let it go. 

“Bedroom?” Dan asks and Blair answer no. She leads him to the couch, pushes him back into the soft cushions, shimmies her dress down her hips until she’s wearing just her bra and panties. She straddles him, fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. He watches her, mouth hanging open, eyes unfocused. She leans down, kisses his chest and he gasps her name.

“Blair!” 

She likes the way it sounds coming from his swollen mouth, rough, out of control. She leans down, kisses his chest again and his hands fist in her hair. He says please, begs her and then her mouth is back on his and everything speeds up. He’s undoing her bra, his hands are on the bare skin of her breasts, fingers brushing her nipples and Blair is hooking her thumbs in her panties pulling them down, then her hands go to his pants, unbuttoning, unzipping, and when she can’t get them down his hips, he takes his hands off her breasts to help her and Blair whimpers in protest. Finally they are naked, skin on skin, sweat mingling, and Dan’s hips buck when she lowers herself onto him and takes him inside. 

They are still, breathing hard, Blair staring down into Dan’s eyes. Then she moves and he groans and everything speeds up again. When she comes, swhen she finally melts, toes curling, gasping, Dan takes her face and holds it between his palms, watching her, not letting her look away. Blair can’t hide her tears. 

She kicks him out, handing him his shirt, telling him to be discreet. People might be watching. He tells her he wants to say, tells her that he was wrong. There’s really nothing left to say.

He kissed Serena. 

“This isn’t over,” Dan says. “I’m not going to let it be over.”

Blair doesn’t have anything left to say. When he’s gone she stands there, naked, tears streaming down her face, then she walks slowly back to her bedroom and puts on her robe. She has one more thing to do and then she can crawl into bed, try to sleep. 

Blair kicks Serena out that night, storming into Mary-Lisa’s room, waking her up, not even pausing to be amused at her assistant’s curlers and cutesy pajamas. She rents another room at the Stardust, a nice one, has her assistant pack all of Serena’s things, resisting to urge to leave them all piled in the hallway, puts the suitcases in front of the elevator with a note and a room key on it. Serena Van der Woodsen is no longer welcome. The final crack in their friendship had split wide open. 

The next morning nothing is better. Mary-Lisa brings message after message. From Dan. Asking her to call. She won’t call. He comes to the penthouse, stands in the living room, hands shoved in his pockets, eyes rimmed in dark circles. Blair won’t leave her room. Nate comes by, perching on the edge of her bed, handing her the cup of hot tea her assisted shoved into his hand on his way in. 

“I don’t know what’s going on with you and Humphrey,” Nate says, “but he’s quit his job and after reading that article he wrote about you, he’s really got some talent. I’d like to keep him around, doll.”

“So?” Blair asks, turning away. “Why is this my problem?”

Nate laughs.

“You’re a hard person to love,” he says, and they both know he’s not talking about Dan. Blair knows that Nate has never stopped loving her, that he’s watched from afar for years now, accepting her explanation that they can never work out, accepting that she can only love her as a friend. “Do you want the truth?”

Blair isn’t entirely sure if she does want the truth. She nods anyway. 

“You were never this heartbroken over me.” 

Nate’s blue eyes are filled with sadness, regret, and Blair knows he’s right. Everyone she’s ever been involved with has been easy to get over. Not this time. 

“I can’t change anything,” Blair murmurs, “I can’t make him love me. He kissed Serena.” 

“Oh, Blair,” Nate says, his eyes growing wide. He’s the only person in the god forsaken city who truly understands what this means to her. He takes her hand in his. “I get it now. I’m sorry. So sorry.”

Dan had pushed her away, told her they could never be, and Blair had refused to believe him. She had chosen love, chosen to believe that their backgrounds didn’t matter, that love did. She had gambled and lost. Nate is right. Her heart is broken. 

She cancels her shows. She stays in bed, day blending into night and back into day again. There would have been a time when Blair would have enjoyed the drama of it all, but all she wants now is for the pain to stop, and she wishes that night in the desert had never happened, when the stars hung low and she learned what love really was. Because maybe she could have gone on pretending that the writer with his unruly hair and piercing eyes was just another self-righteous asshole. 

On the third day she gets up, puts on her dressing gown, pads down the hallway to find find Mary-Lisa staring at her with wide eyes. 

“Miss, uh, Miss Waldorf!”

“Breakfast,” Blair blurts out, not wanting to pretend she’s better, just tired of lying in bed all day. Mary-Lisa rings down to the kitchen. Blair sits down at the table, every bone in her body aching, her head pounding. She’s been there maybe ten minutes when he shows up. Chuck Bass, sliding into the room with his usual smoothness which might have been charming at some point but now he just strikes her as strangely snake-like. Blair doesn’t greet him with her usual banter, just looks at him and sighs heavily.

“Nice to see you up and about,” Chuck says, reaching for the pot of coffee her assistant has set on the table and pouring himself a cup. Mary-Lisa told her he’s been by every morning. Blair hadn’t cared. He doesn’t seem to notice that Blair isn’t engaged in the conversation. They eat breakfast, Chuck still not seeming to notice that Blair isn’t paying attention, but maybe he’s never really noticed much about and now that Blair isn’t busy bantering and playing their games, she can see this. He tells her that he’s sorry she’s been sick, and Blair thinks he must have truly believed the lies Mary-Lisa concocted. They finish eating and Blair is about to ask Chuck to leave, to tell him that she’s done with their charade, that he never has to come back, when Chuck takes her entirely by surprise. He stands up then drops to one knee and pulls a small black box out of his jacket pocket. flipping it open. 

“Marry me, Blair Waldorf.”

There would have been a time in Blair’s life when this moment would have been the culmination of everything she’d ever wanted. There would have been a time when the thrill of a proposal, of a man on one knee pledging his devotion to her would have been enough. Now she just stares at Chuck, not believing this is happening, not believing that Chuck Bass is asking her to be his wife. 

Blair doesn’t know what to say. She doesn’t say ‘yes’ or ‘no’. She decides to instead go with the truth, that she doesn’t love him, that this gesture is for nothing because she doesn’t love him, that she will never love him as long as she lives. She expects Chuck to stand up, to say something biting, shove the ring in his pocket and they will finally be done. Finished. It will be over and Blair will be left alone.

“I don’t love you, you know,” she utters as she looks down at Chuck Bass, who is on one knee, holding a small black box and inside is the biggest diamond she’s ever seen. She expects Chuck to stand up, to say something biting, shove the ring in his pocket, and they will finally be done. Finished. It will be over and Blair will be left alone, which is why she’s surprise when he does exactly the opposite. 

Chuck laughs. 

“Honesty,” he says. “I like it. I don’t love you either, babe. It’s just that this...us...we work. You’re beautiful, I’m good looking, and dad says he wants to start getting me ready for politics. I need a wife. Imagine, you’ll be the wife of the mayor, maybe the governor, maybe the president. If that asshole Jack Kennedy can do it, so can Chuck Bass.” 

This is not a proposal grounded in love. This is not Chuck Bass head over heels. It’s a business deal. It’s practical. Chuck actually looks relieved to tell her the truth, set free of his obligation to pretend he loves her in order to manipulate her into marrying him.

Serena kissing Dan flashes through Blair’s head. The pain starts again. She doesn’t care about Chuck Bass or politics or getting married. She doesn’t care about anything anymore.

“It’s a win-win situation,” Chuck continues, still on one knee. “You can have a huge celebrity wedding, lots of publicity. Out of the spotlight, we each get to do what we want to do. Discreetly, of course.”

“What about love?” Blair asks. Chuck laughs again.

“It’s never been about love for me, babe. Everything is about the game.”

Blair doesn’t ask what they do five, ten, fifteen years from now. She doesn’t ask if divorce in an option for a politician, because she will never love him and what is a marriage without love. She just looks at Chuck and thinks about what he’s saying. Chuck is right. It’s a win-win situation, and Blair has already lost everything. 

In the end, Blair says yes. She’s not really clear why. Maybe it’s because everything in her life has become such a lie that there’s no reason not to make the ultimate, cynical union. Maybe it’s because Chuck is right. She came to Las Vegas to further her career and this is the ultimate career move. Beautiful, rich girl, talented singer, married to the handsome Chuck Bass, the one who finally tamed him. Maybe it’s because she has nothing to lose because she’s already lost everything. 

Chuck slips the ring onto Blair’s finger and the first thing she notices is how heavy it is. It weighs her finger down and she can’t even look at it, turns her head away, tries to choke back the tears. Chuck doesn’t care. He tells her that he’ll make the announcement at a fundraiser that night, that she should be ready to go at 7 pm. Blair nods, not really hearing his words, feeling sick about what has just happened. 

Blair is getting married.


	11. Chapter 11

“Balderdash!”

Blair looks up from her coffee to see her mother take another sip of her morning screwdriver, more vodka than orange juice. 

“Balderdash? Who says ‘Balderdash’ anymore?” Blair asks.

Eleanore takes a drag of her menthol cigarette from the long plastic holder. The moment she’d heard her daughter was getting married she’d hopped on the first plane to Las Vegas and arrived with books of sketches from her favorite designers, page after page of wedding dresses and bridesmaid dresses, talking Blair’s ear off about color combination and what kinds of flowers they could get. 

Now her mother was declaring that Blair’s intention to not have bridesmaids at all was senseless, stupid, basically balderdash. 

“Darling, you have to have bridesmaids. It’s going to be the wedding of the year, and a hundred society girls will be clamoring for a spot. I know for sure Penelope would die for the chance to stand by your side.”

Penelope. Blair hates Penelope. All Penelope wants to do is elevate her own social status. If Blair had anyone as her bridesmaid it would be Serena, and that’s not happening. 

“I’m not going to Eleanor.” Blair says firmly. She calls her mother by her first name because she’s never actually been much of a mother in the first place. Now she wants to play the part, be ‘mummy’ and it irritates Blair to no end. She doesn’t care if Eleanor wants her to have bridesmaids. Eleanor can go to hell. It’s a farce of a marriage anyway. Why should she bother with bridesmaids. For all Blair cares she could get married in a potato sack. 

The wedding is in a month. Chuck wants it to be as soon as possible. The early candidate announcements will happen in the fall and he’s planning to be one of them. Blair doesn’t care. Blair doesn’t care about anything these days. She’s cancelled the rest of her shows, doesn’t go to the pool or out to the casino, stays at home and pretends she planning the wedding of the year. Eleanor is the one who is actually doing all the planning.

“I’m going back to bed.” Blair mumbles. Mary-Lisa materializes from a corner, handing her a small stack of phone messages. Blair doesn’t even look at them, tossing them into the wastebasket in the corner. She doesn’t care who is calling. She doesn’t care about anything. She used to have all the answers, used to know who she was and where she was going. Now she knows nothing.

Eleanor takes another sip of her drink and mutters something about Blair being ungrateful and why did she bother to come. Eleanor, the mother who was never a mother, with her morning cocktail and late night parties, smoking at the breakfast table with whatever up and coming designer she’d taken under her wing. She was more mothering towards her latest project than she’d ever been towards Blair. And now she wants to waltz in and play Mother of the Bride, with all the trappings, all the glory. If Blair could feel anything, she might tell her mother to go to hell, or at least back to New York where she came from. She might tell her that she knows her secrets, that she herself is in a loveless marriage, that she knows all about her father and his dalliances, that he stays in the south of France because it’s easier to keep up a farce of a relationship when you’re apart. She might tell her that she knows about all of her father’s pretty boys.

Blair says nothing. She just turns and leaves the room. She goes back to her bedroom and crawls under the covers, pulling her sleep mask over her eyes, blocking out the world. If she could feel anything Blair might worry about dreaming, might fear sleep because it would mean he would be there, his fingers on her skin, his lips on hers, but she can’t even feel him, Dan. Everything has slipped away. 

When she wakes up the sun is high and bright and Chuck is there, pacing around the penthouse. He asks her why she’s not wearing her engagement ring. Blair tells him that it’s too heavy, that she’s not going out anyway, so why should she wear it. He tells her they really need to make an appearance, that they haven’t been seen out since their engagement announcement. Chuck Bass, always more concerned about creating a production than anything else. His entire life is a Vegas show. 

Blair remembers the night they announced their engagement. She wore black. The color of death, and funerals, and mourning. Chuck had looked her up and down, smiled wolfishly, told her she looked beautiful, completely unaware of her singular and insignificant act of protest. Blair hadn’t cared how she looked. She made it through the night, smiling for the world to see, clinging to Chuck’s arm, drinking martini after martini until her laughter felt too bright and the room was spinning. Mary-Lisa had helped into bed that night, peeling Blair out of her dress, pulling the covers up and as Blair fell asleep she felt her assistant’s hand stroking her forehead. 

Blair ignores him. She’s not going to make an appearance. She can’t pretend like he can. She can’t look happy and in love when she’s breaking apart inside. 

“This is going to be your life, Blair.” Chuck says, gazing out over Las Vegas, hazy in the heat. Blair is sitting on one of the couches, staring at him but not seeing him. “People want to see you, want to be you. You can’t hide.”

“He’s right honey.” Eleanor says, her afternoon cocktail balanced in her hand. Eleanor should know. Her life is a lie too. "Little girls want to plan their dream wedding, married women want to live vicariously through you. It’s the ultimate publicity, and you’ve cancelled your shows, won’t come out of your penthouse. It’s ridiculous.” 

"I knew there was a reason I liked you, Eleanor," Chuck purrs. Blair doesn’t know what she ever saw in Chuck. Even now, even while he’s irritated, his face is blank, smooth. She wonders if he has any emotions, wonders if he feels anything, or is everything in life one business deal after another. Is there anyone he could truly love, in the way she loves Dan? 

The unfortunate thing is that he and her mother are right. She can’t hide away in her penthouse. They’ll be married in a month. 

“Fine.” Blair spits out. “I’ll do an event. Just one.”

They decide on a press conference. Her agent will invite reporters from around the country, talk about the wedding plans. Gush about the dress. Pretend she cares about the flowers. Blair says it’s the only thing she’ll agree to. Get it over with. Get back to mourning. 

She cries that night and Mary-Lisa is there again. Smoothing her brow. 

The next morning Blair is left alone. Eleanor is out shopping. Mary-Lisa is working on the details of the press conference. Blair is lying in bed, her head pounding, the morning light too bright to bear. 

“You gotta read this, doll.”

Blair pulls down her sleep mask to find Nate standing at the end of the bed. Blair smiles the first smile since she agreed to marry Chuck. He’s holding some papers in his hand, held together with a staple. 

“I have to read what?” Blair asks, trying to sound annoyed, but she’s not successful. She’s happy to see her dear friend. 

“It’s the final draft of the Rolling Stone article.” Nate says. Blair’s smile disappears. A day in the life of Blair Waldorf. Dan, with his notebook and his piercing eyes. Blair pulls her sleep mask back on and pulls he covers up. She’s not going to read that article. 

What Blair doesn’t know is that she’s about to become a superstar, and it’s not coming to Las Vegas and doing a show that will do it. It will be this is the article that launches her to true stardom, a loving portrait of a truly talented singer captured by a little known writer that captivates an entire nation. They will fall in love with her in the same way Dan Humphrey did, and she will go on to become one of the most iconic singers of her time. But she knows none of this, she just knows that she can’t read about that day, the day when everything changed. 

“I’m not going to read it,” Blair says. She hears Nate sigh heavily. 

“You can’t marry Chuck,” Nate says wearily.

“I’m going to marry him.” Blair answers, still refusing to look at Nate, afraid of what she’ll see there. 

“You don’t love him.”

Blair wants to tell him that love doesn’t matter anymore. Not when you’ve been betrayed like she has. She says nothing. The room is silent then Nate speaks again. 

“I love you Blair.”

She’s expecting admonishment, lecturing, anger. Not a confession of love.

“I always have and I always will. You’ll always be the one that got away.”

They were beautiful. Teenagers in love, shining and golden, and Blair wishes she could have felt what Nate felt...what he still feels. She wishes it could have worked out. If she could have loved Nate the way he loves her maybe none of this would have happened. Maybe they would be summering in the Hamptons with their 2.5 kids.

“If you do this, if you enter into a loveless marriage all because of Serena, all because of one kiss...”

Blair still says nothing, Nates words sinking in, crawling under her skin. All because of Serena. All because of a kiss. She feels tears start to leak from her eyes. 

“You are never going to forgive yourself.” Nate finishes. 

The room is silent. Then Blair speaks, her voice raw with emotion.

“Get out.”

She hears Nate toss the article on her bed. 

“Just read it Blair.”

She never does. 

The next day is the press conference. Blair drags herself out of bed and stares at her visage in the mirror. Her skin is pale. There are huge black circles under her eyes. She looks more like the walking dead than a woman in love. She hopes makeup can make her look in love because nothing else is going to work. 

Mary-Lisa has a dress hanging up for her, a demure romantic number, fluffy and cotton-candy pink, a wide, full skirt that hits just below the knees. It’s the kind of dress a woman in love would wear, a woman dreaming of her man, planning her wedding. Blair wonders if she should put on an apron and bring a batch of brownies or demonstrate her cocktail mixing to the world. This is what she’s about to become. A wife. Nothing more, nothing less. Chuck said it would be the ultimate career move, but it feels like a death knell. 

The hair and makeup people come and Blair sit numbly as they create a masterpiece, a woman in love, piling her hair high on her head, romantic tendrils escaping artfully, her ears adorned with simple diamond studs. Blair almost forgets to put on her engagement ring, remembering at the last moment, still hating the weight on her hand. She takes the elevator downstairs, walks into the ballroom where the press conference will take place. Blair takes her seat, a table in front of her, a glass of water for her to sip when her throat gets too dry. She gazes out into the empty rows of chair, feeling just as empty herself. 

You don’t love him.

Nate’s words echo in her head. Blair rubs her temples, wishing her head would stop hurting. 

You don’t love him. 

She tells herself for the one-hundreth time that love doesn’t matter. 

Blair stands up, smooths her skirt and goes back to the waiting area. The press will be arriving any minute. Mary-Lisa is waiting for her, handing her a glass of juice, telling her she really needs to have something in her stomach. It’s going to be a long couple hours. Blair drinks it, grateful that someone is watching out for her. The room fills up, reporters with their notebooks, waiting for the entertainment scoop of the year, details of Bass-Waldor wedding. Finally it’s showtime and Blair tries to smile, tries to actually look happy. She steps into the room, sits down, takes a sip of water and the games begin.

Have you picked out your dress?

Where will you honeymoon?

Will your wedding have a theme? 

The lights are bright and Blair is hot. She takes another sip of water, squints out into the room. A bead of sweat trickles down the back of her neck. She feels like she’s been answering questions for an eternity.

What colors will you use?

Are you using a local florist?

Who will be singing?

She answers skillfully, playing the part, smiling until her face hurts. Then it’s over and Mary-Lisa is telling the room that Miss Waldorf will take no more questions. Blair stands up, about to walk off the stage when she hears her name shouted out over the crowd.

“Miss Waldorf.”

She freezes. That voice. Blair knows that voice. His voice. 

Dan.

“Miss Waldorf!” he calls again. Blair turns slowly to face the room, sees him walking toward the stage from the back of the room.

“Blair.”

The room grows quiet when Dan calls out her name, everyone aware that something unusual is happening. Blair’s assistant grabs the microphone and it emits a high pitched squeal through the room. 

“I’m sorry,” Mary-Lisa starts to say, “Miss Waldorf....”

“I didn’t kiss her.” Dan yells, interrupting Blair’s assistant. The entire room is quiet now, all eyes turned toward the lanky man with unruly hair. Blair is staring at Dan who is still walking towards her. 

“I didn’t kiss her.” he says again, even closer now. Blair feels tears spring into her eyes. Dan walks up the stairs to the stage, to where Blair is standing. He’s in front of her now, taking her hand in his, and suddenly it’s just the two of them. They aren’t standing in a room full of reporters. It’s just Dan and Blair. 

“Serena.” Dan whispers, searching her face. “I never kissed her.” 

Blair has been holding herself together for days now, and with Dan’s words everything crumbles. Blair Waldorf is no longer a diva, or a star, or even a engaged woman. She is Blair. She is ripped apart, laid bare for the world to see, all her hurt and pain erupting as Dan holds her hand in his, and it’s only his touch that anchors her as Blair falls apart.


	12. Chapter 12

Dan realizes later that Jenny must have been hiding the papers because the way he finds out that Blair is marrying Chuck is his editor at the paper calling him up and asking him to cover an upcoming press conference.

Mickey is a moose of a man, red faced, always smoking a cigar. He’s the archetype for the hard-hitting editor, and over the years Dan will see this character played out over and over again in film and literature. 

“Smitty broke his leg and I have a bunch of reports out at the test site for another detonation, so I was hoping you might be able to pinch hit.”

“Wait, what did you say?” Dan says, not sure if he heard it right.

“The Waldorf-Bass wedding. We need someone to go to the press conference. tomorrow.”

“Blair Waldorf? Chuck Bass?”

“Dammit, Humphrey. Where have you been hiding? It’s been all over the papers. We can’t get behind on this one.”

Dan’s heart hurts. Blair is marrying Chuck Bass. Blair, who not even a week ago was asking him to unzip her dress, was gasping at his touch. calling out his name, staring into his eyes as she came. Blair, who Dan knows loves him. He had been trying to get through to her, to talk to her, and she refuses to see him, take his calls, but still, Dan thought there was a chance to figure out what went wrong, how they could fix it. Until that moment he’d thought there was a chance. 

He was wrong. 

“Whattaya say Humphrey?” his editor crackles over the phone. 

They need the money. Jenny can cover the rent working the tables, but there is food and gas, and any various number of sundry items that they need. The job at the Stardust was going to make things easier, but Dan had called Nate and told him he wouldn’t be working for him. So they need the money, but still. Could he sit in an audience, listen to Blair go on about wedding dresses and cake flavors. Could he do that, pretend they never meant anything? It’s clear he didn’t mean as much to her as she did to him. Otherwise she wouldn’t be marrying Chuck Bass.

They need the money, but Dan knows that Jenny would tell him they would make it through. She would tell him he should stay away from Blair and the Stardust. So Dan says ‘no’. His editor lets out a ‘harumph’ sound over the phone. 

“Well,” he growls, “I don’t know what we’re going to do then. Guess I’ll have to cover this shit myself.” 

Dan mumbles his apologies and hangs up the phone. He puts a hand on the wall of the kitchen to steady himself.

Blair is marrying Chuck. 

It’s over. 

He was stupid to think it could have ever started in the first place. They were people who came from different worlds. Girls like Blair Waldorf don’t fall for boys like Dan Humphrey. They have summer dalliances with them, plan to run away with them, but when it comes down to it, they end up with the Chuck Basses of the world. They chose money and wealth. They crave stability. They maintain their lifestyle. Boys like Dan Humphrey never last in their world, never fit in at the cocktail parties, never feel entirely comfortable in their tailored tuxedos discussing stock market tips and their golf game. 

It’s over. 

Dan thinks he should be destroyed but instead he’s numb. He walks over the fridge, opens it and takes out a beer. He grabs the bottle opener out of the drawer and cracks it open. Dan takes a swig, tasting the cool yeasty liquid.

Blair. 

He walks over to the threadbare couch where not long ago Blair had perched, looking at him with her big brown eyes, being too kind, and he’d been surprised. There was more to Blair Waldorf than meets the eye, but now Dan knows differently. She’s exactly who he thought she was. 

He sits in the heat, his beer sweating on the coffee table, making another water ring, listening to the sounds around him. Dishes clinking, mothers yelling at their children, cars driving by. Light streams through the window as Dan sits, watching the shadows move as the sun sinks lower into the sky. His beer grows warm. He sits, not moving. 

It’s over. 

There is a knock on the door. Dan’s head jerks up and he stares at the door of their apartment with its peeling wood veneer. Who could be knocking. Jenny is out. He has no friends in Las Vegas. Dan wants to ignore it, to pretend he doesn’t hear the knock, that it’s just someone bumping into the hallway wall outside.

The knock comes again. This time stronger. Dan stands up. 

He won’t know until later that this is a pivotal moment. Answering the door is what will change everything. 

Dan pulls open the door and the person on the other side laughs a little.

“You look like shit.”

Nate Archibald.

“I don’t work for you anymore,” Dan says, not bothering with a greeting. He’s not in the mood for niceties. 

“I’m not here about work.” Nate answers. He pushes past Dan, glances around the apartment, quickly appraises it then turns to Dan. Whatever he thinks, Dan will never know. Nate is schooled in politeness, plays the game well. A dingy apartment isn’t going to throw him. 

“Then what?”

“I’m here about her.”

Blair.

Dan feels the pain that he’d been holding back. It curls along his spine, zips into his heart, makes his chest clench. 

“What does this have to do with me?” Dan says, struggling to keep his voice even. She’s marrying Chuck Bass. It has nothing to do with Dan anymore. He’s been tossed away.

“She won’t listen to me.” Nate says, running a hand through his short blonde hair. “I tried to tell her she’s making a mistake and she won’t listen.”

“It’s her mistake to make.” Dan says. It’s the truth. Everyone has the right to make bad decisions. Blair is exercising this right. 

“Except she doesn’t love him.” Nate says exasperatedly. “she loves you.”

Nate’s handsome face is a mask of pain with this last statement. Dan understands. He’s seen that pain before. It’s hard to love someone you can’t have. It’s even harder to tell another man that she’s in love with him, not you. 

“I don’t think so,” Dan says. “She’s marrying Bass. She won’t talk to me.”

Nate watches Dan for a moment. He studies him silently, then says something that completely surprises Dan.

“You don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what?” Dan asks. Nate sighs. 

“It’s Serena.” 

Serena? Dan’s confused What does Serena Van der Woodsen have to do with any of this. 

“You kissed Serena.” Nate says, as if that should explain everything. Dan remembers how Serena had smelled like booze and cigarette smoke, but he never kissed her. He tells Nate this.

“I didn’t kiss her, but what does that have to do with any of this?”

“You really don’t know?”

Dan really didn’t know. Serena was some girl he used to know, the girlfriend of someone who wasn’t even his friend. She was a chance meeting, drunk, sloppy, annoying. What did she have to do with Blair. Why was this about her?

“No,” Dan sighs. “I really don’t know.”

“She and Blair. They have history. They went to boarding school together. They were best friends, but it’s complicated. Serena fucks up her life and runs to Blair, and then she takes what Blair wants. When she saw you in the casino with her, she thought it had happened all over again.”

Dan thinks about what he’d told Blair. That he couldn’t be with her. That they were from different worlds. That he could never be with her. And then she sees him kissing Serena. Dan sits down on the couch and puts his head in his hands. 

“Shit.”

“Yeah.” Nate concurs. “that is why she’s marrying Chuck Bass. Because you told her it wouldn’t work, then kissed Serena.”

“But I never kissed Serena.”

“Then tell her that.” Nate says. He puts his hand on Dan’s shoulder. “Listen, you’re a cool cat. I like you, and Blair loves you. I can live with that. I’ve tried, but she doesn’t love me. Not like that. But if you talk to her, tell her it was a misunderstanding....”

Dan nods. Maybe he can stop all of this. But how. She won’t talk to him. He can’t get to her. Then Dan has an idea. He realizes what he needs to do. 

“I’ve got it.” he tells Nate. “I can stop this.” 

Nate looks relieved. He claps Dan on the back and tells him to take care, says he’s glad they had this talk, then heads toward the door of the apartment. As he’s about to leave Nate turns around and looks at Dan, a sincere, soul-searching look.

“Take good care of her.”

Before Dan can tell Nate that he will, Nate is gone. Dan doesn’t hesitate. He goes to the phone on the kitchen wall and dials the number to his editor. 

“Hey, Mickey.” Dan says when the line picks up. “I can do that press conference after all.”

That is how Dan Humphrey finally ends up standing in front of Blair Waldorf, her hand in his, his heart on display for the entire world. That is how Dan Humphrey ends up risking it all.

“Serena,” Dan whispers, searching Blair’s face. “I never kissed her.”

She is crying, tears streaming down her face, streaks of mascara. Crying in front of the entire world. 

“Then...then what did I see?”

“Nothing. She was drunk. We knew each other a little in New York. She kissed me, but I never kissed her back. I didn’t want to. I don’t want to kiss anyone else.”

“Anyone else?” Blair asks, her voice barely audible. 

“Anyone but you.” Dan says, putting everything into his words, risking everything. This is the moment. “Because...because I love you.”

Blair chokes back a sob. 

“I love you.” Dan says again. “I’ve loved you since the moment I met you. And no matter what happens here, even if you walk away with him, I will love you the rest of my life. Nothing can change that, even marrying Bass. You can marry a million men you don’t love and will never stop loving you.” 

Now she knows. Dan feels a weight lift off his shoulders. He feels his heart to start to soar. No matter what happens next, Blair knows. He loves her. 

“Don’t marry him.” Dan says plainly. It’s all he has left. Blair blinks, takes in a breath. Her hands grip his tighter. They are small but strong, holding on to him. 

“Oh Dan,” Blair gasps suddenly, as if she can’t hold it back any longer, and Dan searches her face, waits to find out what this means, and as he watches her it’s like she lights up, starts to glow from inside, all the pain and sorrow falls away and in its place is joy. She smiles. “Dan, Dan, Dan. Oh Dan,”

“What?” Dan asks, smiling, although he knows. He knows. He wants to jump up and down, to yell, to laugh non-stop because he knows. 

“I love you,” Blair says. “I love you I love you I love you.”

And with that, with the press corps watching, with cameras flashing, Dan leans down and captures Blair’s mouth in the sweetest, most lovely kiss he’s ever experienced. She pulls back and smiles. Neither of them notice they have made what will become the biggest scandal of the year, Chuck Bass’ fiance declaring her love for another man, kissing him in front of the press. They are just Dan and Blair, the way it was meant to be. 

“Now what?” Blair asks, staring up at Dan. 

“Marry me,” Dan says, grinning. Blair’s eyes widen in shock.

“Are you kidding?”

He’s not. 

“I love you Blair. I want the rest our lives to start right now. I want you to be my wife.” Dan says. He pulls back a little and gestures around them. “And we’re in Vegas. There’s a chapel open somewhere.”

Blair laughs, a nervous, happy laugh. 

“Okay,” she says. Blair laughs and throws her arms around his neck. “Okay!”


	13. Chapter 13

Blair Waldorf gets married. It’s not the wedding she dreamed off. It will piss off her mother, who will never forgive Blair for depriving her of the fashion wedding of the year, never forgive her for marrying a commoner. There is not couture wedding gown, no coordinated bridesmaids dresses. She’s wearing the same cotton-candy pink demure romantic number she’d put on for the press conference. Her face is scrubbed free of makeup, no longer streaked with mascara. Her smile shines. 

Before they walked into the chapel, Dan takes Blair aside. 

“I want you to meet someone,” He tells Blair. Dan turns around and gestures for someone to step forward. “Blair Waldorf, this is Camille Kishlovsky.”

Mary-Lisa steps forward, wringing her hands, stands there looking nervous, mousy. Blair resists the urge to snap at her. What is her assistant doing here? Blair looks around. Where is this Camille person who Dan wants her to meet, why hasn’t he said anything about her before?

“Your assistant,” Dan says slowly, trying to hold back a smile. “is named Camille. Not Mary-Lisa.”

Blair blinks. Camille smiles nervously. Blair extends her hand and Camille takes it, still nervous.

“Nice to meet you,”

“I’m sorry Miss Waldorf,” Camille stammers. “I didn’t really mind that you didn’t know my name....”

“No,” Blair says, glancing over at Dan. “You’ve been the best assistant I’ve ever had. I should know your name.”

Blair Waldorf gets married. The chapel is as little dingy and the officiant is a kindly old retired pastor. Dan asks if she wants one of the theme packages, like the Hawaiian wedding with plastic leis and Blair tells him that this union will be over before it even starts if he keeps it up. Dan grins at her. There is not huge diamond ring on her finger. They pick out wedding. There will be no rock for her girlfriends to ohhh and ahhh over. What she and Dan have together isn’t flashy, isn’t a spectacle like Chuck wanted their relationship to be. A plain band feels right, not heavy on her finger, not weighing her down. There will be plenty of rings in Blair’s future, but this will be the one that she treasures the most. A simple gold band purchased at a tacky wedding chapel in Vegas, picked out with the love of her life by her side. 

Jenny walks in through the double doors opening out onto the street. She looks confused as she sees Dan standing there. Nate comes in behind her, flushed from the Las Vegas heat, looking a little hurried. His hand is on Jenny’s elbow.

“Dan?” Jenny says, “What is going on? Why all the secrecy?”

Blair had called Nate and Nate had taken Jenny off the blackjack table, quickly herded her into a limo. Jenny was completely confused and completely over the moon at the same time amazed that Nate Archibald would want anything to do with her. Later Jenny would confess that she walked into the chapel feeling a little nervous that maybe Nate wanted to marry HER, and no matter how star struck she was, Jenny was pretty sure she didn’t really want to marry a total stranger. Even if he was cute, and he was really cute. 

Jenny freezes when she sees Blair standing next to Dan, arms wrapped around each other. She looks at Dan then at Blair then back at Dan again, and her eyes grow wide as she realizes what is going on. Dan just barely manages to cover Blair’s ears with his hands before Jenny lets out a loud scream. 

“BLAIR WALDORF!!!! MY BROTHER IS MARRYING BLAIR WALDORF!” 

Blair smiles. Their life was going to be interesting if her sister-in-law was going to squeal every time she sees her. Jenny flies into Blair’s arms, hugging her, turning and kissing her brother on the cheek.

“I knew it, I just knew it!” Jenny says to Dan, a giant grin plastered across her face. “I told you she liked you!”

“I guess so,” Dan laughs. His sister had been right all along. “She likes me enough to marry me.”

Jenny squeals again. Dan smiles. Blair tries not to roll her eyes, thinking she might be gaining a husband and losing her hearing all in one day. 

Nate stands next to Dan in the chapel, looking at ease in these strange, neon-lit surroundings. Nate looks at ease wherever he is. Blair turns to Jenny who is leafing through a book of floral arrangements. They chatter together, ooing and ahing over flowers that are nothing special, leaving Nate and Dan standing alone. 

“Thank you,” Nate says to Dan, his eyes intense despite his easy smile.

“I should thank you.” Dan answers. Without Nate coming to see him, Dan would have given up. Blair would have married Chuck. They wouldn’t be standing in a gauche chapel in Las Vegas about to get a quickie wedding. 

“I just want her to be happy.” Nate says, looking over at Blair. She smiling, glowing. It’s obvious that she’s happy. 

“Me too.” Dan says. “Thanks for being my best man too.” 

“I wouldn't want to be anywhere else.” Nate laughs. Jenny bounds up to the two men, her eyes sparkling.

“Let’s get this show on the road, brother!”

Nate laughs again. It’s a genuine sound, reaching all the way to his eyes. It’s not often that the pain leaves Nate’s eyes, and Jenny has done this. Dan knows Jenny’s zeal for life is infectious. He sees her glance away, blush a little. Dan wonders if maybe happiness might be in Nate’s future too.

They all head into the chapel, Dan and Nate taking their place at the front. Camille and Jenny walking up to stand across from them. It’s a strange rag-tag wedding party, but the people who run the place seem nonplussed. Blair guesses they see all types of things. 

A woman with bluish hair coiffed high on her head teeters in high heels up to the organ at the front of the chapel. She sits down, demurely perching on the blue velvet covered bench, and starts to play, pounding at the keys with her long, red nails. The sound of the wedding march echoes and whines. Not the wedding Blair had dreamed of. She doesn’t care. Just stands at the back of the chapel. 

No one is thinking about anything beyond this moment, immersed in the happiness of a couple in love, honored to be able to be here. No one is thinking about tomorrow. No one is thinking about Chuck Bass.

Dan stands by the alter, watching as Blair walks towards him, his face the face of a man in love. She knows that she’s radiant, her hair still piled high but a little messy, falling down around her face, framing it. Nate stands next to him, his mouth pinched a little, and Blair knows this isn’t easy. Jenny and Camille stand across from them, both wearing huge smiles and holding small bouquets of flowers. 

Dan takes Blair’s hand when she finally reaches his side. They turn together and face the officiant who start reading out his usual script. 

Love, cherish, honor, death do us part. Dan and Blair say the words, hand in hand, staring into each others eyes. They slip bands on each others fingers. They tell each other they love each other. They kiss as their friends clap. They are husband and wife. They are Dan and Blair, forever. They have each other. Always. 

Blair smiles up at Dan. Her husband. She can’t believe that everything had seemed so bleak just this morning and now they are standing here, hand in hand, gazing into each others eyes, husband and wife. 

“I love you.” Blair murmurs.

“I love you too,” Dan whispers back. 

It’s the two of them again, no tacky wedding chapel, no Jenny bouncing up and down, no Nate patting Dan on the back and saying congratulations. Just Dan and Blair. 

“What do we do now?” Dan asks, laughing a little. He looks a little at a loss. Blair smiles.

“You can start by kissing your wife,” she says demurely. 

Dan leans down and does exactly what he’s told. He places his lips on Blair’s, presses them together, kisses her in a perfunctory manner, like he’s just come home from the store and before he can put the groceries on the table, he kisses his wife. Blair pulls back a little.

“Hmmmmmm, that was nice,” she murmurs, “but maybe something like this....”

She kisses him and this time she tangles her fingers in his hair and crushes her mouth to his. Blair feels the hunger zip through her. She pulls back a little and Dan cradles her head in his hand, leans in to kiss her again, and again, even more fervently until someone clears their throat and Dan and Blair break apart. Blair realizes why he kept their first kiss simple. Any more and they both start to lose control. 

“Ahem, uh...” Dan says, glancing over at their friends. “Sorry.”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the officiant says into the room, “I present to you...uh...” he glances down at the paperwork in his hand, “Mr. and Mrs. Daniel Humphrey.”

Dan takes Blair’s hand in his. His grip is strong and reassuring. Blair feels like she’s going to burst apart into a million pieces. She’s happier than she’d ever imagined being. Nate, Jenny and Camille all clap as Dan and Blair walk down the aisle. The woman with the bluish hair looks bored and tosses something in the air that Blair will later realize is rice. 

They get into Dan’s beat-up car. Jenny starts to climb into the back seat but Nate puts a hand on her arm and tells her that he’ll get her home. He promises Blair he’ll take care of Camille as well. 

“Now get out of here, you two crazy kids,” Nate says. Blair pushes the door of the car open and steps out, throwing her arms around her friend. His arms come up and circle her, holding her tight. 

“I love you, doll,” Nate says softly, “be happy.”

“I love you too, Nate,” Blair says, her face pressed into soft fabric of his custom tailored suit, “and I am happy. Thank you.”

She climbs back into the car, Dan starts it up and they drive away from the chapel, their friends waving until they turn corner and are out of sight. 

“So,” Blair says, turning to Dan. “What now, Mr. Humphrey?”

“Home?” Dan says, “Mrs. Humphrey.”

Blair smiles. She’ll tell him later that she’ll stay Blair Waldorf, at least when it comes to her career. 

“Yours or mine?” 

“Wherever you want to go,” Dan says, looking over at her and smiling. He knows she’s not going to want to go back to his apartment off the strip. He’s right. “wherever you are is home for me.”

“Right answer, mister.” Blair says, playfully socking him in the shoulder.

They head back to the Stardust and Dan leaves his beat-up little blue car with the valet. They make their way through the lobby, arm in arm, Blair leaning her head on Dan’s shoulder. Step by step, not caring that eyes are watching them, whispers are following them. As soon as the elevator doors close, Blair turns to Dan and kisses him. He moans, deepening the kiss, arms pulling her close. They’re almost to the penthouse. Blair breaks the kiss, pushes him away.

“Just a few more minutes, my love.” 

This time they will make love. No quick fuck on the couch. This time they will take their time, explore each other, each of their bodies being mostly uncharted territory. Blair tingles just thinking about it. She’s ready for him, ready for this. 

Dan kisses Blair again just as the elevator doors slide open, and they tumble out, arms and legs flying, mouths still connected, tongues sliding against each other, and Blair wonders if she’ll be able to hold out until the bedroom, because heat is building and she wants her husband to fuck her now, all intentions of going slow starting to fly out the window. They stumble together down the hallway, Dan pinning her against the wall with his body, exploring her mouth, his hand sliding up under her dress, caressing her ass, pushing her dress up. Then his mouth leaves her and Blair is leaning against the wall panting, Dan is taking her hand, leading her a few more steps when he again kisses her. They’re getting nowhere fast. 

They are passing by the living room when someone speaks up from the darkened room. 

“Well,well, if it isn’t the newlyweds.” 

Blair freezes. She knows that voice. She and Dan break apart and turn to see a figure sitting in the dark, silhouetted by the neon lights of Las Vegas. They can see the tip of a cigarette glowing in the dark, smell smoke. Blair feels sick. 

“Did you think you could pull off this little stunt, humiliate me in public, and nothing would happen?”

“What the hell?” Dan hisses, surging forward. Blair’s hand come up, keeping him with her. This is her battle. This is her fault. Blair takes Dan’s hand and walks through the doorway into the livingroom. 

“Did you think you could just walk away from me, marry someone else and everything would stay the same?”

Blair shivers at the coolness of his tone. It’s still a game, and he doesn't like losing. She walks up to the couch where he’s sitting, takes the cigarette out of his mouth and stubs it into an ashtray on the side table. 

“This is yours,” Blair says, putting her hand out. She opens her palm and her engagement ring is there. “Now, Chuck Bass, get out. You’re no longer welcome here.”


	14. Chapter 14

“Put it back on.”

Blair is standing in front of Chuck, her hand still extended, her engagement ring in her palm. Chuck is sitting with one leg on his knee, leaning back into the chair, watching her through narrowed eyes. He takes a drag of his cigarette then slowly blows the smoke into the air. 

“We’re done,” Blair says firmly, “and I told you to get out.”

Chuck laughs. It’s a bitter, hollow sound. He looks over his shoulder and nods, then someone materializes out of the dark corner of the room. He’s a tall man with dark hair, big shoulders, a hat tipped forward, hiding his eyes. He’s wearing a suit and as he steps forward he pulls back the jacket a little and reveals that he’s carrying a gun. Blair feels a chill run up her spine. This is serious. More serious than she’d thought. Dan steps forward, places a hand on her arm, stands next to her protectively. 

“We’re done when I say we’re done.” Chuck says. The feeling in the room has shifted. When Blair turned to see Chuck sitting there she was confident, secure. She finally had a future, a future with Dan. Now it all slips away. 

“I’m married to someone else,” Blair says quietly, hoping to appeal to logic. How can she still be engaged to Chuck if she’s married to Dan. The whole world saw them kissing, took pictures. She’s sure they’ll be splashed all over newspapers by the morning. 

Chuck laughs. 

“That’s easily undone.”

Dan’s hand tightens on her shoulder. Blair doesn’t move. 

“You can’t make me do this,” Blair hisses, glaring at Chuck. 

Chuck laughs again and stabs his cigarette out in one of the clear glass ashtrays adorned with the Stardust logo in gold that sit on the tables around the room. A stream of smoke curls towards the ceiling. 

“Yes, I can, Blair. I can do anything I want. I don’t think you understand. My father owns this town.”

Bart Bass. Businessman. Mafia ties. Chuck is right. He owns Las Vegas, laundering money, skimming profits off the casinos. Blair swallows.

“What would you do?”

That smile again. Smooth. Another little laugh. 

“You’ll never work in this town again,” he says.

“I can go back to New York,” Blair counters.

“Do you really think my dad has no influence there either?”

Blair’s mind races. 

“I don’t need to work. I can retire,” Blair blurts out. She would do it. Stop singing, walk away, if it means she stays with Dan. With her husband. 

“There are other ways to convince you,” Chuck says without blinking. “The desert has a way of keeping secrets.”

The desert. Blair knows what he’s saying. There have been rumors about Bart Bass’ shadier dealings. People have disappeared over the years, swallowed by the Nevada desert, bodies never found. The official story was that they left town, ran away with a lover, couldn’t deal with the stress, but everyone knew differently. Mess with Bart Bass and you might find yourself buried under the loose earth and the dry sagebrush somewhere in the middle of nowhere, your loved ones never knowing if you were still alive or not, the jack rabbits and starry sky keeping you company for eternity. 

Blair stares at Chuck, puts her chin up defiantly. 

“You would never get away with it. I’m too well-known. If something happened to me, they would trace it back to you,”

“Maybe,” Chuck shrugs, still not wavering. “But no one really cares that much about Jenny Humphrey.”

Blair feels that chill again. Dan surges forward and Blair turns and puts her arms out to block him. That goon with Chuck has a gun. She doesn’t want to lose her husband the same day she marries him. 

“Fuck you, Bass,” Dan hisses through clenched teeth. 

“Or Rufus Humphrey, struggling musician, living alone in Brooklyn....”

“Bastard!”

Blair is holding Dan back as he yells at Chuck, tries to push her out of the way, his jaw tight, eyes full of rage. Blair’s head is spinning, a million thoughts tumbling around. Just hours ago everything was going to be okay. More than okay. Now she starts to see she may have no choice. She slides her arms down Dan’s and grasps his hands, squeezing them hard. The pressure of her grip gets his attention and his eyes move from Chuck to look at her face. 

Trust me.

Blair mouths the words at him, hanging their entire future on Dan’s ability to read lips. She hopes he will follow her lead, because everything depends on him standing by her side and doing nothing. Watching passively as Blair throws away everything. Because she doesn’t have a choice. Chuck has made it clear that this isn’t a game anymore. There are lives on the line. Dan’s family has been threatened. Blair couldn’t live with herself if they were hurt because she refused Chuck’s demands. But she needs Dan to understand that all she’s doing is buying time. This is not the end by any means. 

Trust me.

Dan’s eyes go to her lips and he blinks, startles as he realizes Blair is up to something, then quickly recovers, and Blair thinks he’s gotten her message. She lets go of his hands, turns back towards Chuck. She opens her hand and shows him the ring again.

“Okay,” Blair says. “I’ll do what you want.”

Chuck smirks. He thinks he’s won. He slouches a little more into the chair, looking satisfied. 

“You’ll get an annulment,” Chuck says. Blair hears Dan’s sharp intake of breath behind her. 

“Fine,” Blair says in a monotone. 

“We’ll make an announcement that you’ve suffered a mental breakdown. Explain your dalliance with Humdrum Humphrey away.”

“Okay,” Blair feels sick.

“We’ll get married when we originally planned. It’s only three weeks away from now.”

“Sure,” She wants to hit him, to scream, but she does nothing, stands there, not moving, agreeing to everything. 

“And you’ll put my engagement ring back on,”

Blair hesitates. Her heart aches at the thought of removing the wedding band from her finger, that narrow band of gold that ties her to Dan. Even more than getting an annulment, she hates the idea of removing the symbol that she is his and he is hers. 

“Blair...” Chuck says, his voice low and menacing. She clenches her hand tightly and feels the diamond dig into her palm. She hates the way it feels, how big it is. She doesn’t want to put it back on, wants to throw it at Chuck, tell him to go to hell. Blair looks at Chuck. She swallows.

“Dan’s family will be safe if I do this?” She counters. “Jenny will be left alone?”

Chuck nods. Blair takes a deep shaky breath. 

“Okay,” she says, working her wedding ring off her finger. “I’ll put it back on.”

She hands her wedding band to Dan who is standing next to her looking shocked and pale. He takes it from her, then Blair takes the engagement ring Chuck gave her and slips it onto her left hand ring finger. 

“I have one thing I want,” Blair says. “I want you to never come to my penthouse again. This is my space. I will do what you want, smile for the cameras, not embarrass you, whatever it takes, but I want some level of privacy. 

“You want to hole up with lover boy,” Chuck sneers. 

“What I want or don’t want is none of your business. This is a deal, not a relationship. I’m only doing this to keep Dan’s family safe. Only because you’ve threatened to hurt them.”

“Fine.” The word is twisted out of Chuck reluctantly, but he’s gotten everything he wants, so perhaps he thinks it’s okay to give a little to Blair too. Chuck stands up and his henchman steps forward. “Be ready at 9 am tomorrow. We’ll have our press conference.”

“I’ll be ready,” Blair says, amazed at how calm she sounds because her insides have started shaking like Jell-o. She feels like she might faint but she tells herself that she won’t. She will stand strong until the elevator doors shut and the last thing she sees are Chuck’s eyes boring into hers. 

Only then she can finally collapse.

“What the hell, Blair?” Dan says, turning to her, his face filled with anger and betrayal and pain. He grips her arms like he wants to shake her, but then he stops because she’s trembling and there are tears running down her face. All the tension from the confrontation with Chuck explodes inside her and all she can do is sob. Whatever Dan was going to say is lost, his face softens as he takes her into his arms, tells her to rest her head on his shoulder, and lets her cry. 

Dan helps Blair to the couch, sits down and pulls her into his lap. The room still smells faintly of Chuck’s cigarette smoke, and Blair tries to blot out the memory, burying her head into Dan’s chest, inhaling his scent, letting it wash over her. His arms wrap around her, holding her, stroking her back, her hair. He is shushing into her ear and Blair feels herself slowly start to relax. After a long time of sitting like that, the room dark, the lights of the city twinkling, spreading out as far as they can see, Blair stirs. She lifts her head and looks up at him. 

“I’m sorry,” Blair whispers. Dan’s fingers are smoothing her forehead. “I didn’t know what to do. He threatened your family and if something happens to them, all because of me....”

Blair’s voice trails off. She stares out into the night, wishing things were different, wishing they were newly married, happy, not curled together, clinging to each other, the entire world feeling unsafe. 

“No, Blair,” Dan says adamantly. “You did what you had to do. I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you did that for me.”

Blair looks back at Dan. Her face is serious and so is her tone. 

“I love you, Dan Humphrey.” she says earnestly. “and when you love someone, you take care of them.”

Dan laughs a little. Blair feels the shake of his chest. 

“You enter into a fake marriage for them, tell the world you’re crazy for them, get an annulment for them...I hate this Blair. I hate it.”

“As long as you’re safe. And Jenny’s safe.”

“We are, and all because of you.”

Blair sighs. It’s her wedding night. Even if she’s only married for a day, it should be a special night. They should be drinking champagne until they feel warm and fuzzy. They should be dancing until their feet hurt, swaying to romantic slow songs, clinging to each other like no one else exists. They should unzipping each other, kissing each other, connecting to each other both physically and emotionally. They should be happy. 

Instead she lies in Dan’s arms, still wearing the pink dress she’d put on that morning, never knowing it would be her wedding dress. Her eyes are swollen and itching from crying, her mascara streaked, she sniffs occasionally. Blair never knew she could go from utter despondency, to astounding joy and now back to complete despair, all in one day. 

Blair’s thoughts are racing. There has to be a way out of this. She can’t be tied to Chuck the rest of her life. Not when she loves someone else. But he’s made it clear that people will get hurt if she doesn’t agree to his terms. Vegas is like a border town: no rules, no boundaries. She could go to the police, but Bart Bass owns the police. She could run away with Dan, but Jenny or Dan’s dad might get hurt. She is trapped, blocked at every turn. Chuck has won. 

“What are we going to do?” Dan asks quietly. Blair lets her eyes flutter shut. 

“I’ll think of something.” Blair sighs, exhaustion finally catching up with her. 

As she drifts off to sleep, her head resting on Dan’s chest, Blair is occupied with one final thought. At home, in New York, they call her Queen B. At home, she rules with an iron fist, knows all the gossip, uses it to get what she wants. Queen B is about to come to Vegas. She doesn’t know how, but what Blair does know is that it’s time for the takedown scheme of a lifetime.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> enter Vanessa and her gum chewing habit...

“Um, Dan?”

Dan is sitting on the modern leather couch looking at his best friend Vanessa who is standing in the middle of Blair’s penthouse suite, her mouth hanging open, her eyes wide with shock.

“I mean, when you said you could buy me a ticket and a limo picked me up at the airport, I thought maybe you’d finally decided you’d play the tables and won big…”

Vanessa Abrams is speechless because the limo had brought her to the Starlight Casino where Dan had greeted her in the lobby with a warm smile. He’d escorted her upstairs where Vanessa was greeted by none other than Blair Waldorf, who took her hand, shaking it heartily then pulled her into a big hug. Blair then excused herself to the bedroom to change out of the dress she’d been wearing for the charity public appearance that morning, leaving Dan and Vanessa standing in the living room of the penthouse. 

“Sorry,” Dan says, sounding apologetic. “I couldn’t tell you on the phone. It had to be this way. There are a lot of people who would love to know the truth about what’s going on.”

“Um,” Vanessa says again, still looking completely bewildered, “what IS going on Daniel Humphrey? I mean, fucking BLAIR WALDORF. And you. This penthouse. I’m a little confused. I’m clearly not in Kansas anymore, Toto.”

Dan would almost laugh at the Wizard of Oz reference, if everything didn’t hang in the balance. It their favorite movie. The neighborhood theater would always show it around Halloween and every year they would watch over and over as kids, sneaking into the theater when it was showing, one of the other of them coming up with enough change for pop corn. Their lives in Brooklyn were a drastic contrast to what Vanessa was witnessing now. Blair could probably buy out an entire theater and command them to show any movie she wanted. 

This thought made Dan cringe a little. Blair Waldorf was so far above him in this world and now they were married, and what if a few months from now they had nothing to talk about. He pushed the thought into the back of his mind. Right now they just needed to have a chance at staying married. The getting to know you part that usually came before a marriage license would have to come later. 

“Well,” Dan says, looking a little sheepish, as if he’s not quite sure how to say what comes out of his mouth next, and he hopes when Vanessa hears it, she starts to understand, “we’re married.”

Vanessa’s eyes go wider at Dan’s news and she lets out a low whistle. “Fuck Kansas, we’re not even in reality.” 

“I mean, for right now,” Dan says quickly, not really knowing how to explain all the events of the past few days, “Things are complicated. That’s why we need your help.”

It’s been not even a week since everything unraveled. Dan has been holed up in the penthouse living on room service and spending his time writing, pounding out line after line of prose on his typewriter, otherwise he might punch a wall and go crazy or something. Blair has been playing the part of loving fiance, hiding the dark circles under her eyes with concealer, smiling prettily for the world. It’s only the most observant that can see the tension around her mouth, the way her smile never quite reaches her eyes. Dan tells Blair she should get an oscar for the part she’s playing. She cries herself to sleep in his arms every night. 

Every day Chuck arrives at the penthouse in the morning to pick Blair up for their public appearances, making offhand comments about how well Blair cleans up, and he tells her to smile, saying her his fiance needs to actually look like she’s enjoying herself. It’s never his assistant, as if Chuck isn’t willing to let anyone else but himself handle his investment in Blair and their upcoming sham marriage. True to his word, he remains in the elevator, holding the button to keep the doors from sliding shut, and Dan always stands with his hand folded across his chest, his eyes locked on Bass. 

Chuck’s people, most likely Daddy Bass’ people, have rewritten the story of Dan’s crazy public proposal into the lastest Vegas star stalker episode, with stories about it in the tabloids and papers, and enough whispers that it starts to be accepted as truth. Dan finds himself clenching his fists and wishing he could give Las Vegas’ pretty boy a shiner to greet the reporters with. Blair smiles wistfully at him as the elevator doors slide shut, and one time Dan sees Blair flinch as Chuck’s hand starts to slide around her shoulders, and Dan almost punches the wall. 

They spend every evening brainstorming how to get enough dirt on Chuck to end this. 

The day after the confrontation with Chuck they realized it was time to get an expert to help them figure out some leverage on Chuck Bass so the wedding could be stopped, and Vanessa was it. Blair had called her daddy, told him she was in trouble. When she told him what was going on, he’d called her Blair Bear and told her that Bart Bass wasn’t the only game in town and also wasn’t the only daddy with connections that could make a person disappear. Blair had winced at her father’s words and told him she really wanted to do this her way. She just needed to have some money. Daddy Waldorf said money was no object. 

Dan had called Vanessa and asked if she wanted to take a trip to Sin City. Vanessa had answered, ‘yes’ and here she was, standing in what she might call Bizarro World, by the look on her face. 

“Vanessa is a crack reporter at the New York Times,” Dan says as Blair emerges from the bedroom, “And she’s done some pretty heavy investigative work.” 

Blair, and later Vanessa will tell Dan that she could not believe she was talking to fucking BLAIR WALDORF and she’d heard was going to be on the next cover of Rolling Stone, and she thinks her older sister might have one of her albums, looks at Vanessa with dark, sad eyes and Dan feels his heart hurt. He can’t stand how much the woman he loves is hurting over this. She’s changed out of the trendy, elaborate dress she’d been wearing when she answered the door and is now wearing a sleeveless polo shirt and some capri pants, her feet bare. Her hair is down and she looks more like the girl next door than the diva performer people see in magazines. Dan gets up from the couch and Blair walks over to him, slipping her arm around his waist, nestling into his side. Dan wants to kill Chuck Bass for stealing what should be a happy time for them. 

“Holy shit,” Vanessa says under her breath, “what a story,” 

“You can have it,” Blair says, smiling eagerly, “when this is all done, I’ll sit down and give you the exclusive. Every detail.”

Dan clears his throat and Blair glances up at him, and for a moment they’re just newlyweds, not two people caught up in something of terrible proportions, and Dan thinks that maybe some things should be left out of their story. Not everyone needs to know everything. 

“Almost every detail,” Blair corrects, blushing.

“Right now,” Dan interjects, “we need your help. We need someone on the ground, doing the leg work, talking to people. We need to bring down Chuck Bass and we need to do it fast.”

Vanessa reaches into her bad and pulls out a pack of Juicy fruit, unwraps it and gives it a few good chews. “Hmmmmm…” she intones, the wheels turning, then she cracks her gum. 

As long as Dan’s known Vanessa she’s almost always been chomping away at a piece of gum. Helps her concentrate, she’s told him on many occasions. It also serves to give her an air of being younger than she is, making her seem like less of a threat to the people she’s trying to get information on. She gives Dan a long look then her eyes move to Blair. Dan knows that she’s not just thinking about the fact they’re friends but calculating how much all of this is worth. Love story of the year. Bringing down Las Vegas’ bad boy. Even without the friendship aspect, Dan knows Vanessa is in before she even says so.

“Yeah, okay.” she says quickly. “Let’s see everything you have so far.”

Dan feels Blair sag a little against him. 

Camille materializes from somewhere and Dan isn’t sure how Blair’s assistant somehow knows exactly when to show up. Maybe she’s former CIA or something. Her arms are loaded with manilla envelopes. 

“We have a folder for newspaper clippings, one for financials, even telephone records.”

Vanessa takes a few of the folders from the pile and quickly flips through them. “Nice work,” she says, directing a gaze at Camille who proceeds to blush prettily. Dan thinks this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship, a crack reporter and a whip smart Girl Friday. Dan thinks there could be a great novel written about the two of them, a romance of epic proportions. 

“We just need to be able to start talking to people,” Blair says, “and I can’t exactly traipse around Las Vegas asking questions. Chuck will notice if Dan starts asking around. That’s why Dan thought of you.”

“Yeah,” Vanessa says proudly, cracking her gum again. “I’m damn good.” 

“All expenses covered,” Blair says, “my daddy wants me out of this sham engagement too, and he’s willing to pay.” 

“Let’s keep money out of it,” Vanessa suggests, “I don’t want my journalism credentials to look compromised if this turns into a story, and it seems like it might.”

There’s a knock on the door and Camille scurries off to answer it, returning a few minutes later with Jenny in tow. She’s wearing her casino uniform and has just gotten off her shift. The moment Jenny sees Vanessa she runs to her and folds her into her arms in a huge embrace.

“Can’t believe you’re here,” Jenny crows, hugging Vanessa again. Dan thinks his sister is nothing if she’s not demonstrative. 

“Heh, me either,” Vanessa says dryly, clearly still bewildered at the turn of events she’s stuck in the middle of.

“It’s a little like crazy town around here lately,” Jenny says smiling as she glances at her brother and Blair. 

“I’m getting that feeling.” 

“And, can you believe…” Jenny nods her head to Dan and then to Blair, indicating that she is still trying to figure out whether or not her brother being married to Blair Waldorf is actually real.

“Jenny…” Dan warns.

“Oh,” she gulps, “uh, sorry. This is all just totally normal. You know, my brother randomly falling in love with and marrying a famous singer who is then being blackmailed into annulment and subsequent marriage by a mob boss’ son just so he can prop up his political career and run this damn town. Totally normal.” 

Dan rolls his eyes at his sister. Vanessa perks up with some interest. 

“Wants to be a big player politician?” She pulls a notepad out from the stachel she’s had hitched over her shoulder and pulls a pencil out of the spiral, scribbling something down. “everyone has secrets and with those kinds of stakes, all we have to do is find even the smallest one.” Vanessa looks at Dan and Blair with one eyebrow cocked. 

“You can stay at my place with Jenny,” Dan says, “and Camille take you there and then will be over in the morning with breakfast and you can get started.”

Dan pulls Blair closer as Vanessa nods her agreement. She mutters something about the story of a lifetime and Jenny hooks her arm through Vanessa’s, leading her towards the elevator. Camille is trailing behind them with the pile of files in her arms. 

“It’ll be an awesome slumber party!” Jenny says and Vanessa mouths, ‘help me’ towards Dan. Then they are gone and Dan and Blair are left standing alone. 

“I thought they’d never go,” Blair sighs, leaning into Dan. He feels her shudder as tension leaves her body.

“How was today?” he asks softly, placing a kiss on her hairline, then another on her cheek. Blair looks up at him, her eyes so sad that it makes him hurt. 

“Awful,” she says, her voice low, “my face hurts from smiling. I want to kill him, Dan. I really do. All I can do is smile and think of all the ways I want to kill him.”

“Me too,” Dan says softly, so happy to have Blair back in his arms until they have to wake up again to the nightmare that never seems over. He looks out of the floor to ceiling windows to the city that is an almost dusty gold in the setting sun. “Me too.”

They just needed something to give. One little thing. With Vanessa here, Dan feels hope.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> feel free to hate Eleanor. She deserves it.

There isn't a moment during the day that Blair doesn't want to vomit. She actually does vomit, excusing herself to the toilet as often as she can, throwing up the meager contents of her stomach then wiping her mouth with a tissue as she stares at her reflection in the mirror of whatever bathroom she's escaped to. She looks like she feels: eyes sunken, shaky from lack of sleep. Her clothes are starting to hang off her and Chuck had dismissively remarked that morning that she needed to eat more or get a tailor. Still, Blair finishes rinsing the taste of vomit from her mouth, pops a breath mint in then straightens up and leaves the bathroom with her smile firmly installed on her face, the perfect picture of a woman in love with the most eligible bachelor in Vegas.

This goes on for what seems like an eternity. It's only been a few days, but the happiness Blair felt, the lightness that came from being in love and the freedom of finally being able to make her own decisions, to marry the man she loves, have been replaced by a heavy rock on her finger and an even heavier heart.

Blair arrives back at the Starlight, relieved to be done with her appearance for the day, looking forward to getting out of the uncomfortable crinoline dress and wiping off all her makeup. Her heels are muted on the lobby carpet as she pushes through the doors, two tall, unhappy-looking men flanking her and Blair sees eyes and hears whispers as she tries to cross the lobby as fast as possible.

"Blair!"

She turns her head to see Nate waving to her from by the check-in desk, then he's coming around the counter and heading towards her, as blond and tan as ever, and Blair wishes she could hurry into the elevator and avoid the questions she knows he's going to ask and that she can't answer.

"What's going on, doll?" Nate murmurs as he catches up with her, ignoring Chuck's goons and pushing between them to fall in step as she continues to head for the elevator to the penthouse. His handsome face is creased with concern, and as much Blair wants to ignore him, her pace slows and she turns her head to look at her friend. Nate smiles at her but it's tinged with worry.

"People are saying that Humphrey is some sort of stalker and you 're marrying Bass but I know it's not true. I've been calling and that assistant of yours keeps blowing me off."

Blair blinks back the tears and finally stops mid-lobby.

"Whatever people say," she tells Nate in a short, clipped tone, loud enough for the goons to hear "is true."

"You're seriously marrying Bass," Nate says, his tone incredulous. "Not after what I saw. Not the way you feel about Humphrey,"

Blair hisses a quick breath through her teeth as panic rises in her throat, and the hair on the back of her neck prickles. At the same time she's almost too casually putting her arm through Nate's, pulling him closer, bending her head towards his, looking like a friendly squeeze, and she tilts her head up to kiss him on cheek then quickly whispers, "I can't…just...talk to Jenny," into his ear then quickly kisses his other cheek, just like the French, and anyone watching would think that Blair Waldorf is very European. Then, louder, she says, "I came to my senses, Nate. Slumming wasn't for me. Chuck Bass is the one."

Nate nods dumbly as Blair lets him go then continues walking, leaving Nate standing there, watching her retreat. That should satisfy the goons, who undoubtedly will report any transgression back to Chuck and even Nate isn't safe from the reach of Chuck's daddy. Rotting in a shallow grave the desert isn't an option for someone as visible as Nate Archibald, so most likely no one would make the owner of a casino disappear into the tumbleweed dotted landscape. Still, it wouldn't take much to drive the Starlight out of business. Not in this town. She needed to figure this out without hurting her friends or family, all the people who she loved the most.

Vanessa is here now, with her notebook and Brooklyn attitude, appraising Blair with cool eyes and willing to take on the challenge of bringing down Chuck Bass. Dan says she's good. Blair hopes he's right.

Blair arrives at the private elevator and goes to push the button to call the elevator that will take her to the penthouse, into Dan's arms, and away from all the prying eyes, when one of the goons puts his hand over the button. Blair looks up at him, and she thinks his name might be Andrew or something like that. She straightens herself, squares her shoulders.

"I'm done for the day," she tells him quietly through clenched teeth as she keeps a smile plastered on her face. This was their deal. She does her part, she gets left alone when she's in the penthouse.

"Mr. Bass said you're to go to the pool. He wants people to see you."

Blair swallows at his words. She's an object, a trophy to be paraded in front of the world. She feels the desperation that lurks on the edges start to bubble up and she knows it will rise to a fevered pitch quickly so she struggles to push it back down.

"I don't have my bathing suite." Blair says carefully and a little defiantly. "Am I supposed to lounge around in the same dress I wore to the ladies society?"

Andrew pulls out a fancy box from a nearby boutique and hands it to Camille, who is hovering by Blair's elbow, "Mr. Bass picked this out."

Blair wants to fly at Andrew the Brute, push him away from the elevator button, kick him in the shins and leave all of this behind, but it seems that her keeper has determined her work for the day isn't done.

"Miss Blair," Camille says, still hovering, her voice tinged with concern, "your mom also wants to meet with you about the wedding plans,"

Blair almost turns to her loyal assistant and tells her that Eleanor Waldorf can fuck herself, but that might start the rumor that all isn't happy within the Bass-Waldorf union everyone is talking about. So instead she takes the sunglasses she's been clutching in her gloved hands and puts them on, pushing them up her nose, keeping the world from seeing the tears forming in her eyes.

Eleanor is probably in cahoots with Chuck, more gleeful over a big society wedding and a socially advantageous match than whether or not her daughter is happy. Blair feels more like chattel than a daughter and thinks her mother might have well sold her off to the highest bidder.

"Tell mother dearest that I'll be by the pool," Blair says haughtily to Camille, watching her assistant wince at her tone, and Blair immediately regrets it. She'll apologize to her later, but right now she needs to be Blair Waldorf, Diva, who steps all over her staff and only cares how good she looks on the arm of her fiance. Anything less will end badly and Blair is never far way from collapsing onto the floor in a pool of tears.

Blair throws up in the dressing room and she would cry but that means she would also have to re-apply her makeup. Thirty minutes later she's lounging by the pool in an emerald green swim suit, some fancy French brand, probably couture, that ironically makes her skin itch. She wishes they would make the maitai stronger, because she really needs a way to numb herself to what she's stuck in the middle of. The goons are in chairs just to her left, and she takes some satisfaction that they're clearly hot in the unforgiving desert sun, one of them subtly tugging at his collar, the other, Andrew the Brute, his shirt wet with sweat stains. She lifts a hand and indicates to the Starlight staff hovering just on the edge of her vision that she would like another drink. Let the world think Chuck Bass' fiance is a lush.

Blair closes her eyes and tries to enjoy the feel of the sun on her face when the second drink is placed on the table next to her lounger with a louder than usual clink against the glass tabletop. Blair glances up, feeling irritable, squinting into the sun, but then the staff person speaks, and whatever Blair is about to say dies on her lips. She knows that voice.

"Your Maitai, Ms. Waldorf."

Blair's eyes adjust to the brightness to see Jenny Humphrey standing over her. Nate must have put her somewhere where she would run into Blair. Blair smiles for real.

"Thank you," Blair says, keeping her tone neutral when she wants to ask Jenny a million questions. Has she talked to Dan today. How is he? Does he know she can't make it back quite yet?

"Have a good day, Ms. Waldorf," Jenny says as she nods slightly towards the drink that's sweating on the table. Blair glances at it and sees that the napkin Jenny has placed it on has some writing scrawled on it.

Dan.

Chuck must not have told the goons about Jenny Humphrey because they barely give her a second glance. Blair picks up the drink, hoping her hands don't shake too much, takes a sip, then casually picks up the napkin.

Going crazy. Miss you. D. R.

Blair smiles at Dan's pen name. Her chest clenches and Blair might let one of the tears that seem to keep her eyes always shining leak onto her cheek, except at that very moment she hears someone calling her name.

"Blair, darling," the voice trills and Blair's skin crawls. Mother dearest. "You got my message?" Eleanor says as she sits down on the edge of the lounger next to Blair's. Blair crumples Dan's note in her palm and presses her fist to her heart, as if she can draw strength from ink on paper.

"If you mean did I ignore your message, Eleanor?" Blair asks, "Yes."

Eleanor's eyes narrow. She rifles around in her purse and pulls out a pack of menthol cigarettes, takes one out, lights it, taking a long drag. She closes her eyes with satisfaction just briefly then opens them and resumes glaring at Blair.

"You have always been the most ungrateful daughter," she says almost offhandedly but Blair knows that nothing Eleanor says is offhand.

"You drove daddy to sleep with men," Blair counters. Eleanor huffs a little then smiles.

"Oh, Blair Bear, you don't know how to play this game," her mother says quickly, her tone condescending, and Blair hates how she uses her dad's nickname for her. It sounds obscene coming from the lips of a woman who has never cared for her daughter in any motherly way. "it's not like everyone doesn't know about your father and what-his-name, that assistant of his. Worst kept secret of the Upper East Side, but one that's made me rich."

Blair hates her mom more than ever in that moment.

"That's all you care about. Money. Status," Blair hisses, "I bet you're part of this whole thing. You and Chuck Bass have probably been in cahoots from the beginning. For all I know, you're fucking him. If you're in a loveless marriage, might as well make sure your little girl ends up the same as you. Wasted, alcoholic, but rich. Always rich."

Eleanor's eyes flicker with just a little bit of hurt but it's gone as quickly as it came. "Play the role, darling," Blair's mother laughs loudly, a harsh and grating sound meant to carry, to show they're having a good time. "Can't have anyone one thinking there's trouble with the event of the year. We have a wedding to plan."

With her last sentence Eleanor Waldorf looks around and signals someone to bring over the sketchbooks from the other day that they've been keeping, hovering back by the tables, holding until summoned. They rush over and place them on a table next to Eleanor's lounge.

"Anyway," Eleanor says, taking a long drag off her cigarette, as she contemplates her daughter, "the photographers will be here any moment."

Blair sees red and she knows her mother and Chuck have effectively trapped her. Another photo op. Blair has no choice but to make it look like a loving mother and daughter happily going over dress designs, picking out flowers.

Eleanor opens up one of the books and leans towards Blair, laughing, putting a hand on her shoulder the way a loving mother would. Blair feels bike rise in her throat as she tries not to flinch at feel of her mother's fingers on her skin. Suddenly they morph into the perfect picture of family love, excitedly planning Blair's marriage to the man of her dreams. Blair's stomach heaves as her mother places a kiss on her cheek and points out a flower arrangement.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I admit it. I'm kind of in love with BAMF!Vanessa. As in, I think I could write an entire fic about her. And introducing best Chuck nickname ever: Baby Bass.

Las Vegas is the city that never sleeps. 

It’s perfect for Vanessa Abrams, who doesn’t sleep much herself, fueled on black coffee and stick after stick of Juicy Fruit gum. She hopes it’s also a city that’s going to give up her secrets easily. It’s a long, flat city, spreading out into the desert like an oasis of light and noise. Or maybe like a cancer. It’s different than New York, which always rises to the occasion, making you feel like everything is larger than life. New York is Broadway and big dreams that end up never coming true. Vegas slinks along, crawling under your skin. It slides in and out of shadows, tantalizing you by waving your own vices and hidden pleasures in your face, making your dreams come true in entirely different ways, and not everyone walks away crushed. Luckily Vanessa doesn’t have many vices. 

She’s been resting on Jenny’s couch, stretched out, trying to ignore the way the jet lag has made her weary, her head spinning with ideas about the task ahead of her and her fingers itching for a cigarette. Now, with the sun slipped over the horizon and the whole city lit up in flashing and sparkling neon, it’s time to get to work.

Vanessa gets up and pads to the kitchen, opening the fridge door, peering in to see if there’s anything she can call dinner, and quickly gives up when she sees a half carton of milk and some molding bread. Dan in Vegas is no different than Dan in New York, living on not much more than the same black coffee that keeps Vanessa going. She and Dan are so much alike and everyone was surprised that their brief romance turned out to be less than epic. It turned out that despite the writing and caffeine addiction, Dan Humphrey wasn’t entirely Vanessa’s type.

She goes to the small bathroom with its peeling paint walls, splashes water on her face, then returns to the living room to pick up the heavy black phone set and called the number on the card Blair’s assistant handed her, listening to the clickety clack of each number as her fingers turned dial.

“Hello?” the voice on answering the other line sounds timid. Vanessa unwraps a piece of gum and pops it in her mouth as she talks.

“How soon can you pick me up?” Vanessa asks, her words muffled a little by her chewing.

“Who is this,” the assistant says hesitantly.

“Vanessa Abrams. You know, Dan’s friend. He said you would help me.”

“Oh,” the voice on the other end of the line says then pauses, as if she’s not sure what else to say, and not entirely sure about herself being offered up for help at any hour of the night. Silence hangs between them until Vanessa clears her throat and starts talking again. 

“And you’re Candace…”

“Camille.”

“Oh,” Vanessa says, smiling “Much nicer than Candace.” This time she takes the silence as acceptance of her approval that Camille is Camille and not Candace. Camille sighs heavily in a way that she probably would never do if talking to her boss, as if she doesn’t really want to go back to work after a long day but she’ll do it anyway. 

“I’ll be there in 30 minutes.”

Twenty five minutes later, in a fine show of efficiency, Vanessa is climbing into the passenger side door of a bright turquoise Valient with Camille at the wheel. Vanessa throws the pile of manilla folders she’s brought on the seat between them. Camille looks mildly distressed at Vanessa’s treatment of her research so Vanessa smiles sheepishly and makes a small attempt to tidy them. 

“Where first,” Camille asks politely, her brown hair pulled back in a no-nonsense ponytail and covered with a flowered scarf. She looks every bit the good housewife who wants to invite you over for some cake out of a box and show you her new dishwasher. Vanessa shakes her head. This will not do. 

“You’re going to need to ditch the scarf,” Vanessa says shortly. Camille’s hand goes to touch her hair as she looks at Vanessa in surprise. “And unbutton that top a little. You need to look a little more, well…” Vanessa didn’t know exactly how to put this, “like a hussy.”

“A hussy,” Camille repeats, a blush creeping across her cheeks at Vanessa’s words. “Why?”

Vanessa swallows a laugh. “Well, our first stop is a strip club, and no one is going to talk to me if it looks like I’m dragging Suzy Homemaker behind me.”

When she got to Jenny’s apartment Vanessa had sat down and started to go through the financials Camille had put together. She’d noticed a receipt that showed up over and over again for B&B Enterprises. A few phone calls later she’d connected B&B to a club on the strip known for cheap drinks and lusty ladies who ignored the rules about touching. It was going to be their first stop. It seems Baby Bass was a frequent customer of B&B and maybe this club would yield some clues. 

Vanessa gives Camille the address and soon they’re pulling up outside a low building with no windows and around the top is a bright neon signs that spells out, Kittens along with the flashing silhouettes of women in various forms of undress. Camille gulps so hard Vanessa can hear it. She pulls off her scarf and turns to Vanessa, unbuttoning a few more buttons of her top until the top curve of her breasts is exposed. 

“Better?” Camille asks shyly and Vanessa turns to look her up and down, and now it’s Vanessa’s turn to swallow and after a little too long of a pause, then she nods with tacit approval. Camille looks much more like a hussy. Camille smiles. Vanessa likes her smile. 

(Jesuschrist Abrams, get to work.)

They walk in the front door, a heavily muscled bouncer eyeing them suspiciously. It’s not that Kittens doesn’t get women gracing it’s doors. It’s just that they’re usually pissed off, drunk and dragging their cheating and errant husbands and boyfriends out by the collar. Women walking into the door isn’t usually good news. Vanessa and Camille look like business, so the bouncer doesn’t harass them, just motions them inside. They go up to the bar where women in short skirts and tiny tops lounge, wearing too much make up, eye them warily. One woman is dancing on a small stage at the front of the club, hypnotically gyrating her hips round and round. A scattering of men sit at tables watching. The air is heavy with smoke. Vanessa rubs her fingers together, wishing she still smoked and she cracks her gum. 

“You know this man?” Vanessa asks the bartender who has looked up at them as they each slide onto one of the red vinyl stools lining the bar. She slides a picture across the bar using one finger to hold it down. The bartender glances at the picture then back at Vanessa. 

“Who doesn’t?” the bartender said a little too dismissively, “Bart Bass’ kid.”

Camille shifts nervously next to Vanessa. Vanessa tries not to wince at how awkward the little assistant must appear and hopes she doesn’t do too much damage before Vanessa can get some information.

“He ever come in here?” Vanessa asks as she chews her gum. She sees a brief flicker across the bartender’s face.

“No,” he lies. Vanessa keeps her face straight. Baby Bass is a friend of Kittens for sure. 

“Would twenty dollars make your answer different?” Camille says from next to Vanessa. This time Vanessa can’t hold back her wince. 

“Kittens prides itself in keeping the confidentiality of it’s clients.” the barkeep says tightly then turns from them and asks a man in a suit who has just sidled up to the bar what he’s drinking. Vanessa blinks and a small smile creeps across her lips. Camille quickly grabs the twenty dollar bill she’d placed on the bar and crumples it in her hand.

“Sorry,” Camille whispers, sounding horrified, and Vanessa thinks the other woman must have noted her flinch. 

“No,” Vanessa hisses quietly. “you got us what we needed. Let’s get out of here.” 

The bartender basically admitted that Chuck Bass frequented the club when he refused to be bribed to protect the privacy of their clientele. All he’d really needed to say was ‘no’ to the twenty dollar bill Camille had set on the bar. But he didn’t. He decided to take a stand against the people who would go prying where they didn’t belong. That wasn’t the act of someone who wasn’t in the know. 

The two women walk back towards the entrance and onto the street where they both squint in the glare of the neon lights. Vanessa thinks that sunrise must be a blessing in this town. It might actually be brighter at night. They head towards the turquoise Valient when they hear the sharp click of heels behind them and someone yelling, ‘hey’. Vanessa turns to find one of the dancers who’d been leaning on the bar following them out.

“Got a cigarette?” She asks, “I gotta have me a smoke.”

Her accent is Jersey, her hair is bottle blonde, piled high, and her eyes are thick with Kohl. Vanessa knows her story without asking. Came to make it big in Vegas. Probably a dancer. Wanted to be in one of the big shows, chorus line would have been fine, promised to send her grandmother post cards. Then the dream died and she needed a job. Vanessa glances at her emaciated arms and sees marks up the inside of one, looks at how her hands tremor a little. Seems she also gained herself a little habit on the side. Vanessa opens her satchel and pulls out a pack of cigarettes, pulls one out and hands one to the woman.

“I’ve never seen you smoke...I mean, I thought…” Camille says, sounding surprised at the appearance of the smokes. Vanessa throws a glare towards her.

“I don’t.” 

It’s amazing how much a cigarette can get someone talking, which is why, despite quitting, Vanessa carries them with her. The dancer takes the cigarette from Vanessa’s fingers then leans forward as Vanessa flicks a lighter to light it. She puffs on it for a few seconds then offers Vanessa and Camille a pointed look and walks around the corner of the building towards the dark alleyway that runs up its side, her heels clicking on the pavement, her hips swaying seductively, as if she’s forgotten she’s no longer currying the favor of men who will shove twenty dollar bills at her as she fulfills their fantasies. Vanessa stares after her, counts to ten, then to twenty, then she motions for Camille to follow her and walks towards the alley herself. When they turn the corner they find the woman leaning against the rough stucco wall of the club, dragging slowly on the cigarette. 

“I could use twenty bucks,” She says, eyeing them, biting her lip a little. “Maybe even forty.”

Camille beats Vanessa, handing two crumpled, slightly sweaty twenty dollar bills to the woman, who grabs them, shoves them in her cleavage then takes another long drag and blows the smoke out her nostrils. 

“Bass comes in here. At least once a week. He’s one of the VIPs. Private entrance. All very hush hush.”

Vanessa nods. She knows this isn’t the time to ask questions. Just keep the woman talking. 

“They go in this back room. Lots of booze. Lots of blow. Girls.”

“Girls from the club?” Vanessa asks.

“Sometimes,” the woman answers. “A lot of models. They don’t want to take their party to the casinos. Too much publicity.”

“You know any names?”

The woman pauses and looks at them through the haze of smoke from her rapidly dwindling cigarette, “I might know a few for twenty more bucks.”

“I’m out,” Camille says, stammering a little. Vanessa reaches in her pocket and pulls out a couple folded ten dollar bills and shoves them into the dancer’s outstretched hand.

“There’s one he comes in with a lot. Jaqueline. No, Josephine. Some exotic last name. She’s a bitch. The bosses don’t let many of the regular girls back there, but sometimes we go to provide a little extra, um, entertainment and the girls come back saying she’s not generous by any means. We live on the tips, ya know.”

Vanessa nods. She’s heard enough, “Thank you, Miss…”

The woman looks at her through narrowed eyes, “Cancun. Loretta Cancun,” she says warily, and Vanessa knows she’s probably getting a stage name. Her real name is probably something as uninspiring as Betty. Betty from Jersey, lost in Sin City. 

“Thank you Loretta,”

Vanessa takes Camille by the elbow and guide her out of the alleyway and back towards the car. 

“So,” Camille says timidly, and Vanessa thinks they really need to work on that because Camille is actually startling whip smart and really shouldn’t approach the world like it’s her big bad daddy who’s about to get her in trouble. “Was that good?”

“Good?” Vanessa asks, sounding as flabbergasted as she feels at the question, “I could hug you, Camille. That was jack pot.”

Camille blushes. They slide into the Valiant and head to their next destination. Las Vegas is proving to be a much easier town to crack open than Vanessa had anticipated.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baby Bass loves his models and his blow. The gang comes up with a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might still be madly in love with Vanessa and Camille.

“How’s the investigation going?”

Dan is sitting on the edge of the worn out couch in the middle of the living room of the apartment he’s shared with his sister up until recently. His elbows are propped on his knees and his chin rests on his hands as he looks at his best friend, the one person who can save him at this point. Vanessa is perched on a chair that she’s pulled from their tiny kitchen, leaning on it’s back, her arms folded as she watches Dan. She has a look on her face, a look Dan knows well and he tries to contain the feeling of hope that’s starting to fill his chest. 

Vanessa Abrams has hit jackpot. 

Vanessa smiles smugly, a little like the cat who ate the canary. She reaches down into her satchel and pulls out a manila envelope full of various papers, some of them neatly typed out and Dan smiled as he recognized Camille’s handy work. He knew those two would hit it off. 

“You know,” she says, avoiding Dan’s eyes for a brief moment, then, as if she can tell what he’s thinking, “Camille is a total cracker jack.”

Dan can’t help but smile as Vanessa finally meets his gaze and grants him a shiny, plastic grin, as if to pretend that she hadn’t just told him something that she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to admit to herself. 

“She is,” Dan agrees, trying to hold back a smile, “You should see if she would like to, um, keep investigating with you. Maybe investigate a few drinks at a friendly bar somewhere in town. I’m sure there has to be one in this city.”

Vanessa manages to blush before she dismisses him with a sharp, “Ha, Humphrey,” and Dan thinks he rarely sees her actually look embarrassed. 

The fact that Vanessa Abrams leans a bit sapphic is not something lost on her best friend. It had been the main sticking point in their relationship, even though they’ve never openly discussed it. Ultimately she just hadn’t been that into him, despite all of their shared interests. Yet she couldn’t stop talking about Annette, the Columbia journalism student she shared a writing class with. Then he’d seen Vanessa and Annette one night in a Williamsburg bar, huddled over drinks, leaning in a little too close. Dan had known then and they’d broken up not much long after. Over the next couple years Vanessa would introduce him to her friends, a trail of smart, beautiful women who would give him the once over with barely veiled suspicion, and Dan would shake their hands politely and silently bid them not to break his best friend’s heart. It didn’t seem like they listened. 

“Maybe when this is all done,” Vanessa says, looking at Dan quizzically. Sometimes he’s not sure if she’s aware that they speak in code. “Anyway….”

“Chuck,” Dan says, changing the subject. Vanessa arches an eyebrow at him and cracks her gum.

“Yes,” she sighs, “Baby Bass himself.”

This time Dan lets out a chuckle. 

“I’ve missed you Abrams.” 

“Come back to New York, then. I can get you a gig at the Times. It will be like old times. We’ll rule the journalism world,” she offers, knowing the answer will be ‘no’. Dan will stay wherever Blair is. Vanessa watches him for another minute, mutters something about wanting a cigarette then hands the folder to Dan. He takes it and opens it. 

“Is there enough here?” Dan asks, looking up at Vanessa. She offers him another wide smile. 

“Oh yeah. Seems Baby Bass thinks he’s invincible. Probably because daddy owns this town, but it’s also made him sloppy. We’ve got enough to hang him high.”

“So what do we do next?” Dan asks.

“Tell him to back the fuck off,” Vanessa spits out, “this should get him to stay away from Blair. If he doesn’t, we destroy him, brick by brick.”

The first document is B&B Enterprises. Dan holds it up for Vanessa to see.

“Shadow company,” she says. “Says they import liquor but it’s not just all booze. Drugs. Lots of them. Coming in from the Mexican Cartels. Seems Chucky supplies a good portion of Las Vegas with their blow.”

Vanessa tells him how she and Camille had staked out Kittens, watching a steady stream of big names heading in her back door. For another sixty bucks Loretta Cancun had smuggled in a small camera. Attached to the paper was a picture of Chuck Bass leaning over a mirrored platter with with white lines of cocaine, poised to sniff it into his nose. 

“So this is what we use.”

Vanessa looks like she’s about to burst as she watches Dan, “yeah, it’s good. I mean, really good, but there’s a good chance daddy could clean all this up. Find some people who are willing to do the time, cut Bass’ name out of the whole thing. There’s something else. Something a little harder to cover up.”

Vanessa stands up from the chair and walks over stand above Dan. She takes the file folder and leafs through the back of it, pulling out about six photographs then handing it to him. Dan looks at it. It’s Chuck and the same woman. One at Kittens and she’s snorting some coke. Another through the window of his Vegas home, the woman bent over a couch as Chuck fucks her, another of the two of them through the window of a limousine.

“Who is this,” Dan asks. Where they really going to hit Chuck Bass with evidence he was cheating on Blair. That seemed easier to disprove than the cocaine. 

“This,” Vanessa says, sounding smug, “is Josephine Luna. She’s a model. Pretty small-time. Just some local stuff.”

“Okay,” Dan says, still puzzled, “So?”

“Well, I had my buddy Johnny at the Bureau run a background check on her. Seems Josephine isn’t quite who she says she is. Took a little digging but turns out she’s not German as she claims. She’s Russian.”

Vanessa cocks her eyebrow and pauses for effect and Dan stares at her, not quite getting where this is leading. 

“Her name is Anna Guryeva. She’s fucking KGB Dan.” Vanessa says, excitedly, then she leans towards him and repeats it again, drawing out the syllables. “K. G. B.”

Dan’s mouth falls open. Fuck. Vanessa nods her head. Baby Bass has been fucking a Russian spy.

“They’ve been trying to locate her. She was under a different alias and slept with a high level general, stole secrets, and they were about to arrest her when she went underground.”

“Shit.” 

“So, there. We have him.” 

Dan nods. Yes, they did indeed have what the need to get Chuck Bass away from Blair forever. The future mayor or Las Vegas, Bart Bass’ political golden boy, is not going to want to world to know he’s been compromised by a KGB agent. Dan springs up from the couch and grabs Vanessa in a huge bear hug.

“Thank you,” he gasps. 

Vanessa comes with him back to the Stardust. She sits in the passenger seat of his beat up blue car, sunglasses on, staring out the window, watching the buildings flash by. In the daylight this city looks beyond dingy, everything the in some variation of sand, brown or pink. It’s hot today and Dan feels a bead of sweat trail down the side of his neck and under his collar. When they finally arrive at the Stardust, Dan sees Nate standing near the entrance, talking to a group of gentlemen in suits, smiling in a manner that tells Dan whatever he’s discussing is business, not pleasure. Dan glances over and catches Nate’s eye then cocks his head, indicating Nate should join them. He sees Nate smoothly excuse himself and then he’s striding towards Dan.

“Upstairs,” Dan says in a clipped tone, “We have what we need.”

Nate looks at Vanessa, who nods from behind her dark cat-eye sunglasses, then back to Dan’s face. 

“Got it,” Nate says, “I’ll catch up with the Vegas business association folks later.”

Together they walk across the immense and gaudy lobby to the elevator. Dan watches the numbers click by at the rise towards the penthouse, and even though he’s only been gone a few hours, needing to meet with Vanessa and grab a change of clothes, he misses Blair. Is it always going to be like this, feeling like part of him is missing when he’s not near her? 

When they step out of the elevator and into the penthouse Blair flys into Dan’s arms, kissing him soundly on the lips, and Dan hears Vanessa sigh heavily with irritation from behind him and he knows she’s rolling her eyes. Dan thinks he needs to tease her about this later, tell her she’ll get it when she finally falls in love, and he glances at Camille, who is standing across the room by the floor to ceiling windows, her cheeks a sweet shade of pink as her eyes meet Vanessa’s. Dan smiles and thinks it may not be that long. 

“Okay, lovebirds,” Nate says as Dan and Blair break apart. Dan feels Blair’s arm around his waist, pulling him close. He smells her perfume and it makes him feel dizzy. Dammit, focus, Humphrey.

“We have what we need,” Dan says, moving to sit on the couch. Everyone follows, Nate sprawling in one of the arm chairs like he lives there, Vanessa sitting on the other end of the couch opposite from Dan and Blair, Camille hovering close to Vanessa, her hand accidentally brushing the other woman’s shoulder. 

Dan fills them in on what Vanessa had found out. When he’s done, Nate lets out a low whistle.

“Holy shit,” Camille says, then claps a hand over her mouth. Vanessa glances up at her and smiles. 

“Primo scoop,” Nate says. 

“So what now,” Blair says, looking around the room. 

They all discuss. Blair says she doesn’t want to tell Chuck herself. He always has his muscle with him and she doesn’t trust he wouldn’t try to hurt her. Nate says he can have extra security to watch her. Blair grips Dan’s hand tighter and says she thinks that’s best. 

Vanessa suggests something public, something that can make the papers in the morning, putting Blair on the front page. It will be harder for Chuck to try to hurt her if she’s in the headlines. Blair says she can do another concert. She’ll tell Chuck it’s a farewell show since she’s going to be married to him soon and she plans to announce her retirement. He’ll eat it up. 

Vanessa says they need to secure a lock box, put everything into it, and she says she can develop some copies of the photos she took of Chuck and the Russian spy to give him proof, plus her guy at the Bureau is sending her some copies of the evidence via courier. It should arrive tomorrow. She’ll get two lock boxes at two different banks, just to be sure. 

They’ll tell Chuck the same night, just before the concert. Dan and Nate volunteer for this job, Dan declaring that he wants to see Baby Bass’ face when he finds out he’s been played, and he sees Blair’s mouth twist a little at the nickname Vanessa has given Chuck. He secretly hopes there might be need for his fist to connect to Bass’ pretty boy face. 

They need a few days. Three at the most. That means the concert should be on Saturday. Blair says she’ll call her agent and tell him to set it up. Nate says he can cancel whatever he has planned for that night at the Stardust. Dan glances over at Blair who is smiling. He hasn’t seen her smile like that since the night they were married.

Everyone leaves the penthouse, and Dan and Blair are finally alone. Blair moves even closer to Dan on the couch, almost climbing into his lap. She tilts her head up, her eyes filled with tears that she had managed to hold back the entire time they were planning.

“It’s almost over,” she says softly, her voice brimming with emotion. “We’re almost free.”

“Yes,” Dan whispers. He bends his head and captures her mouth in a kiss that is slow and sweet, and it’s not long until he feels the deep ache that he always feels when he’s kissing Blair. Her hands come up to grip his arms then they slide around his back and pull him closer.

“Take me to bed,” Blair says against his lips, “make me forget all of this.”

“Yes,” Dan says again, this time for an entirely different reason. 

Only a few more days and they’ll be free.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baby Bass goes down. Blair returns to the stage. The world finds out the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to make this chapter play out how I wanted it to I had to split it into Blair POV then Dan POV.

**BLAIR**

Blair sits at her dressing room table one last time, gazing in the mirror as her hair dresser fusses over her bouffant. She looks at her reflection in the mirror. She is wearing a long sheath dress in a light pink with green trim. Her hair is piled high on her head and her eyes are lined with thick, black kohl. The makeup artist has thickened her eyelashes and between the way the frame her eyes, along with the dark eyeliner, the effect makes her look a little melancholy.

“Ready Miss Blair?” Camille asks from the couch behind her where she’s been perched watching everyone get Blair ready for her final concert, a chance for Blair Waldorf to sing her goodbyes before she embarks on her grand adventure of being married to the venerable Chuck Bass.

The world was in for a surprise.

Chuck had eaten it up when she told him her idea. He had patted her condescendingly on the shoulder and told her he was happy she was finally getting with the plan. You and me, he had purred at Blair as she tried hard not to glare at him, we are cut from the same cloth. Both of us know a good opportunity when we see one. Chuck was right about one thing. Blair knew this was not only a good opportunity but possibly her only one to get out from under Chuck and get the life she deserved back.

He was out there. He told her he was going to have Nate set up a special table where he could be seen, basking in the glow of the woman he was going to marry, the center of attention. Chuck is almost beside himself with the potential this brings to his public image and he doesn’t even notice that Blair is grimacing.

“Ten minutes!” someone yells from down the hallway. Blair hears people scurrying past her dressing room and she feels like she’s going to be sick. It’s not being on stage that worries her. She’s been on stage countless times and she loves it. The lights, the murmur of the crowd, the way they fall silent when she starts to sing. Until she met Dan, being on stage was the most alive Blair could ever feel. It’s the fact that once she steps onto that stage, there will be no turning back. Blair has no option but to finish this. If she doesn’t follow-through, Chuck wins. She needs to be strong and right now she wants nothing more than to run home and crawl back into Dan’s arms.

“You look beautiful,” Camille says. Her assistant is no longer sitting on the couch but has stood and crossed the room to stand behind Blair, their eyes meeting in the mirror. “You look strong. LIke nothing will stand in your way.”

Blair lets out the little sob she’s been trying to hold back at Camille’s words. If only she could see herself the same way her loyal assistant does. She turns her head to look up at Camille, at the same time taking the other woman’s hand in hers.

“I’d be lost without you, Camille,” Blair says softly. “You’ve been the best assistant I’ve ever had.”

“Thank you, Miss Blair,” Camille says as she blushes.

“Five minutes!” the voice down the hall calls out. Blair looks at her reflection again. Her lips are glossy, pink. Her eyes luminous. She takes a deep breath, letting the air fill her lungs. She is ready.

“Okay,” she says to Camille, unfolding herself from the chair she’s been sitting in and coming to a stand. “Let’s do this.”

Blair slips on her silver pumps and throws the darker pink drape that accents the top of her dress over her shoulder. She stands tall and strong and holds onto the knowledge that she will be able to pull this off. Vanessa had said their plan is foolproof. Dan had kissed her and told her he will be willing her all his strength once she gets on stage. She points up her chin and looks towards the dressing room door with determination that only a diva can conjur. Gone is the Blair that is in love and married and fighting for her life. In her place is the Blair Waldorf who arrived in Vegas and took the city by storm.

Blair grabs the handle of her dressing room door and pulls it open, walking into the hallway, past the two muscled security men who have been following her around for the last few days, not even acknowledging them. Her silver heels click on the concrete floor as she walks towards the stage. Behind her Camille runs to keep up. She arrives at the curtains flanking the stage and pauses, peering through them, onto the stage, out into the audience.

Nate is on the stage, dressed in a standard tuxedo, a microphone in his hand. He glances her way and their eyes meet, Blair giving him a slight nod.

“Thank you for coming to the Stardust,” Nate says, flashing the audience his trademark grin, “I’m proud to bring you a very special treat tonight. This isn’t just any singer, she has the voice of an angel, and when you hear her, you’ll agree with me that she might just define this entire generation. Even more important, she’s a good friend of mine, which is why I decided to introduce her myself. Ladies and gentlemen,put your drinks down and your hands together for the amazing, talented, beautiful....Blair Waldorf.”

Blair steps out onto the stage and walks towards Nate. She is smiling, waving to the people in the room even though she can’t see them with the stage lights shining in her eyes. She stops at Nate’s side, her eyes sweep the room, then she gives her friend a big hug.

“I love you,” she whispers in his year as she grips Nate’s shoulders and holds onto him like he’s keeping her from drifting away.

“I love you too,” Nate says quickly before he turns back to the audience and gives him one more smile. He lets her go and Blair steps up to the microphone that is sitting in the middle of a bright spot light. She squints a little, then takes hold of the stand, leans forward and sings.

**DAN**

When Blair’s voice starts to rise out into the auditorium, Dan feels his heart start to break. She hasn’t been performing since this whole ordeal started and now he’s reminded of the first time he heard her sing, and her voice brings tears to his eyes.

The room is dark and the audience is hushed as they let the song she’s singing wash over them. Fancy cocktails stay on the small tables where people huddle, watching Blair, entranced. Dan isn’t immune to the beauty of her voice, and for a moment he almost forgets what he’s come here to do.

Chuck Bass is a few rows in front of Dan, sitting at one of the VIP booths, his two body guards not far away. Dan has been sitting in the dimly lit auditorium of the Stardust watching him, waiting for the lights to go down and the curtain to rise and then it will be time to put their plan into motion.

“Hey, Humphrey,” Dan looks up to find that Nate has materialized next to his chair and is squatting down so he can whisper to Dan and still be heard over Blair’s singing, “sorry it took me a little longer than I had wanted to get back here.”

Dan feels the smoothness of the manilla envelope in his sweaty hand, and he knows this is it. It’s time to bring down Baby Bass. Blair ends the song and stands at the microphone, silent, gazing over the crowd, and Dan knows that all eyes are on her. She is truly a star, commanding the room, but she is also the woman he loves and while everyone else might see the diva, Dan can also see the fear in her eyes, hear the slight tremble in her voice as she leans forward and finally speaks.

“Thank you for coming,” Blair says, her voice a little halting at first and then gaining strength.”

Dan and Nate stand up and walk towards the booth Chuck is occupying.

“Tonight is supposed to be my farewell,” Blair’s voice is growing stronger, “I’m here to say goodbye, and goodbye isn’t always easy.”

Chuck’s bodyguards look up at Dan and Nate find themselves standing next to Chuck’s booth. Chuck doesn’t notice his bodyguard's unease. He’s too busy watching Blair. Chuck doesn’t know this, but Dan does: everything in that room is about to change.

“Vegas has been good to me,” Blair continues, “and I’ve learned a lot about myself here. I came to sing and I ended up falling in love.”

Dan hears ooohhhs and awes rise from the audience as they take in Blair’s words. He imagines people are picturing the fairytale Bass-Waldorf romance that has been filling the gossip pages. They are about to learn the truth.

“which is why I’m dedicating tonight’s concert to the love of my life.”

Dan puts the manila folder onto the table in front of Chuck and Nate moves to stand on the other side of the booth, blocking the bodyguards view.

“My husband,”

Chuck Bass looks at the manila folder in front of him, then he looks first at Nate then at Dan.

“Daniel Randolph Humphrey.”

With Blair’s words, Chuck bolts up from where he’s sitting and Dan sees his bodyguards do the same and surge forward.

“What the fuck?” Chuck exclaims as shocked gasps run through the crowd and eyes turn towards Bass. Blair, on stage, tears on her cheeks, grabs the microphone stand again and starts to sing, her voice telling the world the truth. Nate nods his head towards one of the corners of the room and four muscled men start walking towards the table where Chuck is standing.

“We need to talk, Bass,” Nate says, putting his arm gently on Chuck’s, keeping Chuck from making a scene, trying to stay him with just a touch. No one needs the world seeing a brawl at the Stardust in the papers tomorrow.

“The fuck we do,” Chuck snaps, motioning at his men just as Nate’s security goes to block Chuck’s bodyguards.

“Blair is done with you,” Dan says, the words bringing unimaginable satisfaction, “she will return your ring and you will never contact her again.”

“The fuck I will,” Chuck spit out, glaring first at Nate then turning his fury to Dan, “she’s mine, not yours, and I’m not letting her go, and now I have an even better reason to destroy you.”

“No,” Nate says firmly, placing a finger on the folder that Chuck seems to have forgotten, “this says otherwise. Don’t let Blair go and the world will know that you slept with a Russian agent.”

“Lies,” Chuck spits.

“Josephine,” Dan says, flipping open the folder to the picture at the front, which is Chuck fucking the model. “Otherwise known as Anna Guryeva.” He flips to the next page which is Guryeva’s CIA profile. “If you even try to keep Blair and stop us, your political career will be over.”

Chuck looks at the papers and his eyes grow wide as the color drains from his face.

“That bitch.”

“We’re done,” Nate says. He and Dan turn and walk away at the same time, followed by Nate’s security, leaving Chuck sitting there, staring at the stage, nothing left to say. It was over.

Nate falls in step with Dan as they head to the aisle then towards the front of the room and the door that leads backstage. Dan feels like he might burst. They climb the stairs the the area behind the curtains and Dan pushes one of the heavy, velvet drapes aside to look out to where Blair is standing, singing. Dan feels his heart swell and Blair turns her head, as if sensing that he’s there. She keeps singing as their eyes meet and Dan nods to her, indicating that it’s done. She doesn’t turn back to the audience, just continues to stare at him, holding him with her deep, brown eyes, singing to him with all her heart. It take everything Dan has to stay there, watching her, and not run out onto the stage and take her into his arms.

“She’s amazing,” Dan hears Nate say, and he realizes his friend has been standing next to him, watching Blair. Nate claps a hand to Dan’s shoulder, as if to say that he’s lucky. Beyond lucky. It’s like fate brought him him, brought them together, and Blair Waldorf sings to him like he is indeed her destiny.

“Two more songs until intermission,” someone yells from behind Dan, maybe the stage manager, and Blair ends her song, still staring at Dan, the entire auditorium, silent before she turns back to face the audience and nods towards the orchestra to begin her next number.

When Blair is done the audience leaps to their feet and the applause is thunderous. Blair looks shocked and grateful and she takes a small bow, blows kisses, leans into the microphone and thanks them, one and all. Then she turns and almost runs off the stage and into Dan’s arms.

“Dan,” Blair says over and over again, and she’s kissing him like he’s the air she needs to breathe. Dan is kissing her back, pulling her close, and they are barely aware there are people around them.

“You’re going to ruin my makeup,” Blair laughs, pulling back a little to look at Dan, “I can’t believe it’s done.”

Dan nods, “me either.”

“And he didn’t argue?”

“We didn’t give him a chance. It’s pretty clear that his game is over.”

Blair is kissing him again and Camille appears and puts her hand on Blair’s arm, “Miss Blair, we need to get you changed for the second half of the show.”

Blair looks tired and like there’s nothing she wants to do less than go back and sing more. Dan can see that she’s finally given into the exhaustion of the last few weeks and her body slumps a little.

“I know,” he whispers as he extracts himself from her arms, “all I want to do right now is go back to the penthouse and be alone.” Alone with every part of her body under his fingertips, alone so he can take off every piece of her clothing slowly and follow it with kisses. Alone.

Blair blinks back tears and accepts that she has to finish what she’s started. They’ve been waiting this long, what will be a couple more hours, and she tells him she can’t wait to get out of this dress and into something comfortable, into his arms.

Dan kisses Blair one more time, softly on this lips, and it’s a chaste, loving kiss that holds promise of more later. Then Camille is pulling Blair away down the hallway towards her dressing room.

“So,” Nate says, coming back to stand next to Dan, “I was wondering, well, if you’re sister might be interested…”

Dan turns to his friend with his eyebrows arched in surprise. “You are asking me if you can ask my sister out?” Nate looks a little uncomfortable and for a moment he can’t meet Dan’s gaze.

“Yeah.” he says, “I mean, she’s nice and I think she likes me.”

Dan thinks back to Jenny squealing in the phone over Nate Archibald and how cute he is. Oh yeah, she likes him. “I have no problem with it.”

They are watching the Stardust crew running around backstage, getting the set ready for Blair’s second half when suddenly there’s a loud pitched alarm that echoes through the building. Dan glances over at Nate to see his face creased with concern.

“Shit,” Nate says, “Fire alarm.”

There is general confusion for what feels like an eternity but then people start shouting and directing the people backstage towards the door. In the auditorium Dan can hear the scrape of chairs and urgent murmurs as people are asked to exit the building. He and Nate move towards one of the lit exit signs that lead into the parking lot. Dan is sure it’s a false alarm, and in the distance he hears the wail of the Las Vegas fire department heading towards them. There are people all around them, jostling, and Dan scans the crowd searching, searching, but not seeing who he’s looking for when he spots Camille.

“Camille!” Dan yells, leaving Nate’s side and making his way over to Blair’s assistant. She looks at him and her face looks relieved to see him. “Blair?” Dan asks. “Where is Blair.”

Camille’s face looks confused at first then grows concerned, “Oh, Mr. Dan, I was getting her some ice water down the hallway. I thought the bodyguards got her out…”

Dan scans the crowd again and finds the two bodyguards, but Blair isn’t with them, and Nate is, talking to them, gesturing in a way that makes the fear start to bubble up in Dan’s throat.

“When did you last see her,” Dan says forcefully, grabbing hold of Camille by the arms, almost shaking her. She looks at him, scared, her mouth open but it’s like she can’t make the words come out.

“I...I don’t know,” Camille finally stammers.

Dan grows cold. The fire alarm. Chuck Bass. The guards were here but Blair wasn’t. Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong.


End file.
